Nothing Much Going On

I've been reading Edmund Morris's new book Colonel Roosevelt. Theodore has shot so many animals in Africa, I think he's getting a little sick of the bloodbath, himself. Well, he's doing it for science, for the Smithsonian Institution, so maybe he'll get over it. But I'm not sure I can read any more of it.

Here it is two days from the end of November, when I meant to have this blessed book finished.

The best laid plans of mice and men
gang aft agley,
and lea'e us naught but grief and pain
for promised j'y.

We had a fine Thanksgiving feast, thanks to the good cooking and hospitality of Sister Susan. On Friday I ate leftovers and watched Auburn come from behind to beat the Crimson Tide 28-27.

Can't think of any more cheerful news for the moment.