I am back at my old desk, and my old keyboard. It is 3;30. I have time to drop my bags and do some dishes and cook up some cheese-steaks. MIL is not a breakfast person. I was empty. Not empty any more.
There had been a train derailment this morning on the Bronx to the North line. Did not have any effect on our travel, but a horrible thing to wake up to.
Thanksgiving was-- well it was fine, that is what it was. Nothing ugly happened. Turkey was served and nobody wept. MIL deployed her usual tortierre for the day after. I am in favor of meat pies in books. (Hornblower, Aubrey, Marlowe and Kyd could not do without them,) In real life they are a little much for me. I did discover a really great peppermint ice cream, going to see about replicating it here. But home is best. My tiny cozy den feels just right today. The house there is vast and cold, and full of little things you mustn't knock over, and not enough books, and no place to set cups.
I could not post, I was able to goof with Tumblr a little on my phone, but that was all.
Hazel went with us, and behaved herself very well and was much admired. She likes being able to run around in a backyard, and she likes their dog. Their dog is very kind. She is a golden retriever, and that usually means kind can be assumed. But, as I think I have said before, she is approximately as stupid as a bag of hammers.
But I got to meet up with Rikibeth and her two housemates, and that was the best, you guys. And they were so kind. They fed me tea and noodles and pie, (fruit pie!) and we talked and talked, about writing mostly. And they sent me off with a lot of new things to think about.
So I am back now-- and ready to do my Perfect Duet Christmas thing, and my Archie Unwrapped.(I plan on actually unwrapping him, if that is ok with you guys.) And I have a glimmer of an idea how to fix up my Marlowe. It was not bumpy, I had wrtitten an alluvial plain instead of a nice grassy hill. So that is exciting.
Good to be home.