Greetings from Fly Creek
Hi, all...
We're here. The Saint, the boys and I arrived in Fly Creek Wednesday night (Daughter was already here). We'd planned to do run the Thanksgiving traffic gauntlet on Thursday morning, mostly because everybody else is on the road on Wednesday.
But the weather forecast all along the Mass. Pike for Thursday morning was terrible. We piled into the van and drove Wednesday night.
Thursday: Dinner at my Mother's house for 28. The great Jim Atwell sat on one side of me, the Saint sat on the other. Too much good food to list here, but my mother's oysters once again proved God exists.
Last night, post dinner, the Saint and I had drinks, venison jerky and wasabi pickles with Lt. Ed Novak, his wife, and another couple, up on a hill in an area that makes Fly Creek seem like Manhattan. Tonight, in a little over an hour, actually, the six of us are joining another couple for dinner in Cooperstown.
I've been meaning to work on the manuscript all weekend, but I only managed a hundred words today. We've been doing things with the kids instead. Today we took Daughter to see Santa.
At the end of this post from last Christmas, I mentioned that Daughter is terrified of Santa. My mother took Daughter to see Santa earlier in the week. Daughter shook hands with the Big Dude, but didn't sit in his lap. Today, even with another Big Dude there to protect her, she wouldn't sit, either. But I did snap a decent picture with my cell phone camera.
Tomorrow, we rejoin the rat race back to Boston. The batteries aren't recharged yet, but we're close.
Adam
We're here. The Saint, the boys and I arrived in Fly Creek Wednesday night (Daughter was already here). We'd planned to do run the Thanksgiving traffic gauntlet on Thursday morning, mostly because everybody else is on the road on Wednesday.
But the weather forecast all along the Mass. Pike for Thursday morning was terrible. We piled into the van and drove Wednesday night.
Thursday: Dinner at my Mother's house for 28. The great Jim Atwell sat on one side of me, the Saint sat on the other. Too much good food to list here, but my mother's oysters once again proved God exists.
Last night, post dinner, the Saint and I had drinks, venison jerky and wasabi pickles with Lt. Ed Novak, his wife, and another couple, up on a hill in an area that makes Fly Creek seem like Manhattan. Tonight, in a little over an hour, actually, the six of us are joining another couple for dinner in Cooperstown.
I've been meaning to work on the manuscript all weekend, but I only managed a hundred words today. We've been doing things with the kids instead. Today we took Daughter to see Santa.
At the end of this post from last Christmas, I mentioned that Daughter is terrified of Santa. My mother took Daughter to see Santa earlier in the week. Daughter shook hands with the Big Dude, but didn't sit in his lap. Today, even with another Big Dude there to protect her, she wouldn't sit, either. But I did snap a decent picture with my cell phone camera.
Tomorrow, we rejoin the rat race back to Boston. The batteries aren't recharged yet, but we're close.
Adam
Labels: Daughter, Family and Friends, Jim Atwell, The Kids, The Saint
posted by Adam Hurtubise at 5:37 PM
1 Comments:
Ah, but doesn't the rat race seem almost ok for the glorious distance of those magical four days1
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