We did the big feast in the park thing yesterday. It started out several years ago as a traditional meal for the homeless. Now, it’s for anybody who shows up, and they did. I had a huge plate myself. It was very good, but I’m sure it won’t touch the T-giving dinner we plan to have today. I’m instructing my daughter in Mom’s stuffing recipe. I can almost duplicate it, though no way I can get it as fine as Mom did. But close. It’s good enough that I can have indigestion for several days after an OD.
I’ve really enjoyed this trip. If nothing bends or breaks -- and I’m still around -- I think I’ll come back next Christmas for a few weeks. Maybe come December 15 and stay until January 15, something like that. One of those “wear out your welcome” visits.
Ah, don’t think that would happen with my daughter. She’d be happy if I moved out here. But, I’ve gotta stay at my little house on Paris Pike for the duration. That’s where I belong. Eleven more days and I’ll be back there. Not especially looking forward to the travel, but what the hell, it’s just a day. A day in the life. That’s okay, but the days have become fewer and the life shorter. That’s the way it works.
No matter. Get my ass home and finish up that murder book. Make a few bucks for all my years of pecking on a keyboard. Or maybe not, but I’d be surprised if I don’t. I’ve actually been fortunate to make a living pecking all these years, even if the end product wasn’t “artistic” by any means. It beats driving a honey wagon. Barely, anyway. (Don’t tell Tweety Bird I said that, he’d kick my ass!)
I’ve really enjoyed this trip. If nothing bends or breaks -- and I’m still around -- I think I’ll come back next Christmas for a few weeks. Maybe come December 15 and stay until January 15, something like that. One of those “wear out your welcome” visits.
Ah, don’t think that would happen with my daughter. She’d be happy if I moved out here. But, I’ve gotta stay at my little house on Paris Pike for the duration. That’s where I belong. Eleven more days and I’ll be back there. Not especially looking forward to the travel, but what the hell, it’s just a day. A day in the life. That’s okay, but the days have become fewer and the life shorter. That’s the way it works.
No matter. Get my ass home and finish up that murder book. Make a few bucks for all my years of pecking on a keyboard. Or maybe not, but I’d be surprised if I don’t. I’ve actually been fortunate to make a living pecking all these years, even if the end product wasn’t “artistic” by any means. It beats driving a honey wagon. Barely, anyway. (Don’t tell Tweety Bird I said that, he’d kick my ass!)
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