I had a few hours to kill after work and wandered into the New York Public Library; the big branch on 42nd Street and Madison Avenue. They were open until 8:00 p.m. that evening and I needed a place to get out of the cold. If you go to the third floor, you’ll find a huge reading room with high, carved wood ceilings and big windows that let light pour in. The long oak tables have electrical outlets built right into the tabletops so you can plug in. Plus, there’s a Gutenberg bible on permanent display in a glass case at the entrance to the reading room. You don’t stumble across that ever day!

These photos of the main entrance off of 42nd Street make it look like a mausoleum or a crypt. It’s the fault of my camera; it’s not poor lighting or design. It looks more grand in person.

The city is getting all dolled up for the Christmas season. I love this time of year and, believe me, it has nothing whatsoever to do with religion. The town looks great and people really do seem lighter.

The sign carved into the stone at the balcony, right at the tip of the Christmas tree, says Astor Cort. In the 19th century, the Astors were the wealthiest family in America and they financed this library, along with other public works. The Waldorf-Astoria, Astoria, Queens and Astor Place in the East Village are among the dozens of places that bear their name. The reward for all that philanthropic work was to lose John Jacob Astor IV on the maiden voyage of the Titanic.

I stumbled upon a fantastic photography exhibit that’s worth your time x 100 if you’re in the neighborhood. I didn’t even know it was going on! NYC: a surprise around every corner. Recollection: Thirty Years of Photography at the New York Public Library is up through January 2nd. I thought it would be a pedestrian collection of pics but I was wrong. All the heavies are represented: Robert Capa, Berenice Abbott, Diane Arbus, Richard Avedon, Margaret Bourke-White, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Weegee and tons more. So fun. And it’s FREE! FREE! FREE!

Penny Diane Wolin. “That’s His Mother, He Never Married;” from the series The Jews of Wyoming. Gelatin silver print, 1985. © Penny Diane Wolin.

Amy Arbus. “Ann Magnuson on Park Avenue.” Gelatin silver print, 1981. © Amy Arbus.

James De Sana. “David Byrne.” Gelatin silver print, ca. 1980. © James De Sana.Arnold Genthe. “Edna St. Vincent Millay.” Gelatin silver print, 1913.

The holiday retail sales numbers are up slightly from last year and the stock market has recovered, but it looks like a full-blown economic recovery is still a long way off. Back in Ohio, the Dunkin’ Donuts employees and the people cleaning the tables and floors at the mall food court all looked like older guys with families to support. These are traditionally entry level, low paying positions that are manned by kids. These guys looked defeated and sullen. Until unemployment reverses itself, they’ll be no recovery.

I rarely give fashion tips but here’s one that’s money in the bank. Don’t wear a black sweater to indoor glow in the dark miniature golf. The black light will make your dandruff glow and your shoulders will be covered with dozens and dozens of tiny, illuminated blue specs. So embarrassing.

I taught The Elder Daughter how to pump gas while in Ohio. She did everything from credit card swipe to returning the hose and replacing the cap (righty-tighty). Weird factoid: drivers in New Jersey are NOT PERMITTED to pump their own gas. It’s against the law! The entire state is full serve. Consequently, kids in New Jersey grow up not knowing how to pump gas. It’s a big shock to their systems when they go on their first road trip.

Best road kill of the long, four hour car ride through the hills and forests of Pennsylvania: A deer leg. Just the leg. I have no idea where the rest of him went. Best road kill of all time: A black bear.

Living on the East Coast, I tend to forget just how conservative people have become in the middle parts of the country. I’m in the lovely Buckeye State of Ohio for the holiday and some people out here are plenty pissed. This place has gone Red State in my absence. I pulled into the local Dunkin Donuts for a badly-needed coffee infusion and ran into this charming fella:

 There’s no ambiguity about where his sentiments lie. I think the majestic bald eagle imagery is particularly effective, don’t you? He might have stolen that from Stephen Colbert. F- for originality.

On the other side of his pickup truck was this:

In case you weren’t sure who he’s referring to specifically, that bumper sticker—the one where he calls illegal aliens criminals—those are the colors of the Mexican flag. Got it? Lots of ANGER out here, folks. Lots of anger.

Only a rank amateur would dive into a Thanksgiving dinner without a proper battle plan. It takes careful preparation that begins a day or two beforehand with limiting the amount of food you eat. You have to get your guts in shape for the big event.

The execution of your strategy on the day of the meal is equally important. I prefer a two-pronged attack. The first wave of attack is always the traditional Thanksgiving food. Your plate is the battlefield.

Once you’ve won that battle and catch your breath, you’re ready for the second wave. Target: the Italian delights.

The Italian portion of the meal is prepared a few days ahead of time. There’s simply not enough time to prepare all that food in one morning. But there’s an added benefit. It’s a scientifically proven truth that if you make homemade marinara sauce, meatballs and neck bones and allow them to sit for a day or two, it actually becomes more flavorful and succulent. It’s a fact!

The danger with that strategy is that having a big bowl of meatballs sitting around the house for two days leaves them vulnerable to early attacks from other armies. You have to draw a line in the sand.

Tonight: Leftover city, bitches.