The snack conundrum

 (A non-crabby pants Thursday post)

My return to my local book club yesterday was very pleasant.

We had read Dennis Lehane’s Small Mercies, which I’ve written about previously. The consensus was that it was a page turner but that it was difficult to really engage with any of the characters. It takes place during Boston’s school busing crisis, and all the characters were filled with xenophobic rage and hatred.

          The best part was we all met in the town library. I had dropped out of the group a few years ago over the discomfort of having people (some of whom I barely knew) crammed in my too-small living room. This session was great. No one had to clean their house, no getting out glassware and plates, no baking competitions, no artfully arranged fruit offerings. We all sat at a big bare table, chatted a bit, had our discussion, and that was that.

          Along the same vein, at the senior center in town, the Thursday mahjong ladies will often bring cookies, or a small cake and everyone breaks for snack time. The women I attend with always politely decline all offerings on the premise that they themselves don’t want to get caught up in the whole rotating snack contributions thing.  I did crack last time when a yummy slice of lemon poppyseed cake came my way. If I keep that up, I should probably at least bring in some banana bread.