I was trying to decide whether I’d bring an exciting-sounding hazelnut torte or a sprightly green salad or garlicky mashed potatoes when the phone rang. ![]() Anyway, she was a total character, and we thought Thanksgiving at her house-with a collection of also somewhat odd people from the writing program-would be lots of fun. She’d been a costume designer for the movie business, and for some inscrutable reason liked to wear A-line smocks with giant flat buttons on them. She was smart and funny, and looked like a supersize version of Liza Minelli. A few months earlier, she’d arrived from LA, and my boyfriend met her at the University of Houston, where they both were getting an MFA in creative writing. The host (I’ll call her Alice) was new to Houston. We were both barely out of college, my boyfriend and I, living in Houston in a rundown apartment with weeds in the yard, and going to a Thanksgiving potluck seemed a lot cheaper than cooking the entire feast ourselves-or flying home to California for it.
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