Hey, that heavy cream is for the pies, she cries, unkindly. Steady holds my wrist above the teacup’s rim, and, too, my gaze. The thick fluid flows forth. Arrestme. Sue me, I want too much to say. Rephrasing that somewhat, I say OK. Adding, sotto voce, God save us from dry turkey,and He probably will, or She will, or the will of the ineluctable Fates will, as usual. Thanksgiving at my house, and all’s well.Richard Kenney teaches at the University of Washington’s marine laboratories in Friday Harbor.