I love getting mail that isn’t craptastic. This includes, but is not limited to: photos of my nieces and nephews, coupons, catalogs, samples, invitations to weddings, gifts, and the uberglory, magazines. Subscriptions come and go for various reasons, involving everything from freebies and hobbies to changes in barometric pressure.
Z usually picks up the mail. I think he half enjoys seeing what we get and half enjoys the joy that I derive from a really good haul. Last night we came home a little later than usual after heading to his folks for supper and a viewing of their London photos. He had an armload of things to bring up from the car, so I walked the breezeway to pick up the mail.
It is always a good sign to see a plastic wrapped package but as I unlocked the box, I saw that there it was, the final issue of Gourmet. I had seen an announcement several weeks prior that they were throwing in the towel, that the Thanksgiving (November) 2009 issue would be their last. And now, here it was, with a turkey gracing the cover, peaking out of the pile of envelopes and circulars. It is a cross between recipes and food porn, the beautiful and the strange, evoking both memories, dreams and desire. But it is no more.
I haven’t brought myself to tear into the plastic and devour the contents all the while knowing that this is the end. I have only just begun to sample and it is already time for dessert.

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