SS: These are the good years for me and Jim. We took down the Halloween decorations, the guillotine, the bodies rising from the earth, the spiderwebs, and the place just seems so much cheerier without it. Jim spent Halloween night, walking around in the dark in his zombie outfit and moaning, and thanks to his hard work we have about three-hundred candy bars left over. So there's that. And after last year's Thanksgiving disaster when we tried brining the turkey and then grilling it in the backyard, this year we got invited back to cousin Frieda's so there's no turkey anxiety this year, not for us. Cousin Frieda is 70 and we'll have to hear about her gall bladder, but the dinner will be terrific. I was on my way to the basement to find my little revolving Pilgrim family to put in the window, when I heard Jim sighing in the den.
(FOOTSTEPS IN)
(TO JIM) Jim, what are you sighing about?
TR: Oh, nothing, Barb.
SS: You're not reading about the Republican presidential candidates again, are you? You know what your doctor told you about blood pressure-----
TR: No, just thinking about the nature of things. Time. Change.
SS: You mean you miss Daylight Savings Time?
TR: No, no ------ The passage of time. The things we keep that aren't important and the valuable things we lose.
SS: Have you been reading the back of my Chai tea box again?
TR: Like those TV trays---- I hate them, Barb, and we've had them for decades. Meanwhile, I have lost the poems I wrote in college, my old bell-bottoms, my Kingston Trio albums.
SS: Well, I'm sure they're around someplace.
TR: And time goes by so fast. I mean, it seems like yesterday it was summer and now winter is coming.
SS: Jim, it's Minnesota. Winter is always coming --
TR: And now it's dark at 4:30 -----
SS: So let's turn on some lights-----
TR: And the Republicans are going to build a wall along the Mexican border.
SS: Hey. That reminds me. It's taco night at Rosa Mexicano. You love tacos.
TR: I don't know. I was going to watch the news.
SS: We can go down to Rosa's and have a big platter of food and bring our own little plastic packs of ketchup, Jim. Ketchup has natural mellowing agents that smooth out these little bumps of dread and despair.
TR: Maybe you're right, Barb.
SS: So often, what you think is an existential crisis just means that you're not getting enough ketchup.
(MUSIC)
RD (SINGS):
These are the good times when winter comes to greet us
And we go to Thanksgiving at your cousin Frieda's
Life is flowing like ketchup on Fajitas
Ketchup, Ketchup