Our friend, whom we'll call "Brian", received a Christmas package from his mom this week.
Brian's mom put together a little packet of holiday treats for him. There were two pairs of comfy socks, a bubble-wrapped glass ornament for the Christmas tree (his first in the new apartment), and a carefully wrapped persimmon loaf, made from the fruit off the tree in the back yard. She brought the collection of items down to the Mail And So Forth shop, a few blocks from the house where he grew up. She filled out an address-and-payment form, and she left it all for the nice girl at Mail And So Forth to pad and pack into a shipping box.
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This morning for breakfast I am eating a bowl of Bellwether Farms 's sheep ricotta with a spoonful of grade-B maple syrup atop. It is hard to imagine a better breakfast.
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Yes, that is a helicopter, and the little lumplets on the pylons are humans. I don't know exactly what they are doing, but as I watched, the helicopter flew away. The little lumplets did not wave. I speculate: a try at a solution to prison overcrowding.
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I'm reading S. Shepard's 2000 Pickled, potted, and canned: How the art and science of food processing changed the world. Naturally, it is mostly full of fascinating tit-bits and details. How could it not be, with chapters like Drying, Salting, Smoking, Pickling in vinegar, Pies, Pots, and Bottles, Canning, and Fermenting?
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The image below appeared on the New York Times's Web site today as the attraction for an article about ski resorts. I don't know anything in particular about ski resorts, but an activity that involves the phrase "Lord to: Goat" certainly deserves admiration.

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