One of my most favorite books when I was younger was "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs," a wonderful fantasy about a town whose meals fell from the sky like weather three times a day. The illustrations are some of the finest ink-work I've ever seen as well.
Driving towards town this afternoon a quote from the book was realized as the setting sun looked like a giant pat of butter melting into the mountain range... and I could almost smell the mashed potatoes. (I paraphrased that, tried googling the quote, but ended up just discovering that they are in production for a movie based on the book due out in 2009 or 10. Sweet.)
Of course it probably was mashed potatoes that I was smelling, and turkeys and roasts and hams and pumpkin pies, and weird green bean casseroles that for some reason somebody somewhere decided belonged on the turkey day table. Happy day of gluttony and mass consumption of quantities, I hope everyone has a safe and sated holiday!
Wear your ice cleats,
dc
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
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