After three nights away from home, I flew back to the east coast, and at ten o'clock on Saturday night, Susan picked me up at JFK. I had been in the air for hours, wedged into a tiny blue vinyl seat; by the time I touched down, I was exhausted, and so I dozed on and off for the entire car ride home, which took nearly an hour and a half. When we walked through the front doorafter the dogs calmed down, after the cats stopped having intimate relations with my luggageI realized that I was hungry. Not hungry, but crazy hungry. Mad hungry, as Lucinda Scala Quinn would say. Famished. Read more >
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