WE SPRING FORWARD early again this year, changing the clocks pre-dawn on Sunday, meaning officially that every day after that is a hop and a skip toward spring. But I don’t wait so well. Margaret, Zen to the point of annoying, waits well in her tidy house. Me, I pace, butting heads with any impediment, strewing the flotsam and jetsam of my confronting behavior in a churning wake as I go. Strangely (or not), we have one thing in common in this season: the food we spoon into ourselves as we wait. [click to continue…]
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