The sound of clatter

For all my loyal readers still out there, I greet you with the warmest of hellos on this chilly November evening. You may think that I have drifted off into the abyss of canned soup and frozen dinners since I last wrote, but I assure you, I have been eating and drinking well – very well. Now that I think about it, October and November 2010 might even be recorded as the two months I’ve checked more Portland restaurants and bars off my wish list than any other since I moved here. What superb dining indeed. But for those of you who may be concerned with my cholesterol level due to my latest food escapades (foie gras and steak tartare, however palatable they may be, cannot possibly be good for the heart), I have also spent an equal amount of time at the gym as to debunk any truth to “a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.” But anyway, it’s been a busy few weeks, and surely you’ve noticed that my postings in the last couple of months have dwindled to an almost unspeakable infrequency. I’ve noticed too, and I’m not happy about it.

On the eve of the most beloved food-centered holiday of the entire year, I find it rather poetic and maybe even a little ironic to announce that clatter is taking a sabbatical. If we stick strictly to its definition, a sabbatical only comes every seventh year, as a time for one – usually a college professor - to study or travel for a period of time. Considering that I am neither a professor nor have any official plans to travel or study and clatter has only been around since March of this year, I am using this term very loosely. Even so, I have decided to use this holiday season to bake up a storm, recapture my inspiration, cure writer's block, and pursue those visions of sugar plums dancing in my head - without feeling an ounce of guilt for abandoning clatter in the process.

Please don’t cry! Please don’t despair! I won’t be gone for long. Think of this departure as the Von Trapp children singing "So Long, Farewell". Leisel, Kurt, Brigetta, and the rest of the clan may be saying words like adieu and auf wiedersehen, but as you and I both know, that scene hardly marks the end of the movie. I might not have Nazis to dodge or the Alps to cross, but clatter’s story too is far from being over.

For now, I ask only one thing of you: to have a truly rich and blessed holiday season in the presence of your closest friends and family. Don’t hold back when it comes to gulping down eggnog in a reindeer glass, dishing yourself a second (or third) piece of pumpkin pie, fitting in one final run before the lifts close, or pretending you’re excited about receiving yet another pair of socks from your grandma. Just remember: as long as you’re doing it in the holiday spirit, you’re doing it right.

Well, this is my exit. I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly….. Check back with clatter in the new year, as I hope to feel rejuvenated and with my distractions quelled, enthusiastically ready to begin clatter’s next chapter. Until then my dearest readers, climb every mountain, and I’ll catch ya on the flip side.