I had been somewhat disappointed about the idea of having this Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant. The place that we're in this year kind of necessitated it, I suppose, but I was still uncertain. The restaurant choice was the Publick House, which at least would bring us close to an original Thanksgiving feel, so I stopped feeling sad about the reality of no leftovers and breaking home-cooking tradition.
I must admit that the dinner was really good, and everyone enjoyed themselves. I loved the squash bisque, and I think the pumpkin pie was the best I've ever had. I wish I'd brought along my camera, but we'd come out of a good rain, so we were all a bit waterlogged. The colonial-ness of it all helped me remember what others had been through, and we talked of a recent PBS show on the Mayflower and the colonists' difficulties in their voyage. Dad nodded through his laryngitis. Eli grabbed at the silverware. I said silent thanks for all I have and promised to stop feeling sorry for myself. The waitress told us to stay as long as we wanted because we were the least problematic table of the day. When we got back to E's we played a few rounds of Hullabaloo. It was a good Thanksgiving.
Back home now and trying to wrap up some freelance work so that I can work on the novel tomorrow. Looks like I may have quite a bit of time at home in the future, so full steam ahead on the writing! :) Oh, if I could be at home writing creatively for a living. *sigh* It can happen ...
Tom Clancy was an obscure Maryland insurance broker with a passion for naval history and only a letter to the editor and a brief article on the MX missile to his credit. Years before he had been an English major at Baltimore's Loyola College and had always dreamed of writing a novel. His first effort, THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER—the story of a Russian submarine captain who defects to the United States—sold briskly as a result of rave reviews, then catapulted onto the New York Times bestseller list after President Reagan pronounced it "the perfect yarn" and "non-put-downable."
I must admit that the dinner was really good, and everyone enjoyed themselves. I loved the squash bisque, and I think the pumpkin pie was the best I've ever had. I wish I'd brought along my camera, but we'd come out of a good rain, so we were all a bit waterlogged. The colonial-ness of it all helped me remember what others had been through, and we talked of a recent PBS show on the Mayflower and the colonists' difficulties in their voyage. Dad nodded through his laryngitis. Eli grabbed at the silverware. I said silent thanks for all I have and promised to stop feeling sorry for myself. The waitress told us to stay as long as we wanted because we were the least problematic table of the day. When we got back to E's we played a few rounds of Hullabaloo. It was a good Thanksgiving.
Back home now and trying to wrap up some freelance work so that I can work on the novel tomorrow. Looks like I may have quite a bit of time at home in the future, so full steam ahead on the writing! :) Oh, if I could be at home writing creatively for a living. *sigh* It can happen ...
Tom Clancy was an obscure Maryland insurance broker with a passion for naval history and only a letter to the editor and a brief article on the MX missile to his credit. Years before he had been an English major at Baltimore's Loyola College and had always dreamed of writing a novel. His first effort, THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER—the story of a Russian submarine captain who defects to the United States—sold briskly as a result of rave reviews, then catapulted onto the New York Times bestseller list after President Reagan pronounced it "the perfect yarn" and "non-put-downable."
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