biscuits, Leo Frank, and Thanksgiving

this morning i took a half-Canadian madman (and his spouse) to the airport at 4:30am. my yin decided to join me, and on the way back i was overcome by a powerful hunger for biscuits. i began musing on Church's and Bojangles' and all the wonderful unnamed, independent purveyors of chicken and biscuits scattered around the South. there is a simple perfection to the biscuit, and pre-dawn consumption has been proven (in my mind) to increased feelings of well-being and yummy-ness. the only side effect appears to be an over-reliance on hyphens.

(five and counting)

none of this helped at 5am in South Florida, however, and my yin attempted to quell my desire by stating the potential for biscuits later in the day. we're making the rounds to three different homes today, ranging from the hinterlands of west of Jog Road to the posh of A1A and Highland Beach, but i suspect there will be nary a biscuit in sight. the climate south of Alachua County is inhospitable to all things Southern, and an unspoken, odious attitude drapes over the beaches and canals...

(but now)

my mind turns to the ghost of Leo Frank. i believe he must be watching over us, attempting to set right history and carve out a little piece of heaven for those of us who (pleasantly) suffer from carbophilia. i think of the bagel and the biscuit, of yin and yang,
of Shiva and Brahma;

we have a lot to be thankful for.