no one knows the gypsy's name

I might just have to pay more attention to football this season, now that it is a done deal that T.O. will not be playing anywhere for the rest of the season. Well played, Andy Reid!

Instead, I'm wasting time reading about evolution. If there is one thing of any value that has come out of the mind-numbing intelligent design arguments out there, it's that I have stopped to appreciate the beauty and multitude of evolution. The latest article in the NYT points to a shift in thinking. Previously, islands were thought to be where the buck stops in evolutionary patterns. Isolated on an island, species were thought to just stall out.

Instead, it turns out that evidence now points to islands being evolutionary engines in a sense. Islands may actually be a big machine of biodiversity, from which birds and other species migrate to continue evolving. This is cool to me for two reasons. First- it reinforces the central premise of science, which is that one must always be open to adjusting theories and concepts to account for new data.

Second- I like the notion that isolation and turning inward could actually be energizing, could actually be a catalyst for progress. The concept that one needs to be separated from the external, that this shielding could lead to an outburst of creativity... well, I suppose it's no surprise that someone who blogs could find this attractive.

It is tempting to sequester myself for the next four days to put this idea to the test. However, it is actually not that tempting, because my GBF is throwing a Thanksgiving soiree at his place tomorrow. I am going by in the morning to help him with preparations, retiring to my apartment to bake something, and then returning to his place for the feast. This might seem hectic, until I divulge that we only live six blocks apart. So, there goes any pity you might have felt. Plus, hello, GBF's are the best cooks ever.

This is the least amount of cooking I have ever had to do for Thanksgiving. When I go home for Thanksgiving, I am usually on kitchen duty for three days straight. My mom is a master cook when it comes to Indian food (and inexplicably some Italian fare, and baklava), but she is completely disinterested in a typical Thanksgiving menu. I enjoy all the cooking and baking, but it is a bit tiring, and occasionally, I feel I might be missing out on some of the fun of sitting around gabbing with my teeniac cousins.

Right now, a part of me feels I am majorly missing out by not being home with my family, bundled in thick sweaters, the smell of baking apples and cinnamon pervading the house. But I am split down the middle this year. Another part of me feels profound relief at being able to just be, without obligations and expectations and explanations. So, to net out even, I will just be thankful for two things: that much of my family is well and happy in the Northeast, and that I am here and happy.