Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I made it a pool day. After my post-pool nap, I treated myself to an Italian dinner in a nicer place than my usual. Cloth napkin, tablecloth, a rose on the table, and a real live Italian in charge. I had fettucine in artichoke cream sauce, breadsticks, and a glass of wine. The meal was so heavy that I didn't even feel the wine the way I usually do. I did get my wine flush, though. Thank you, Irish ancestors, for those glowing round reddish-pink circles on my cheeks.
While I sipped that wine, I thought about other Thanksgivings I have spent in foreign countries, particularly last year. Jellybean and I were in Ecuador. We went to the Cuenca market in the morning, then took the bus and a taxi to a tiny town called Ingapirca, to see the Inca ruins. We walked up to the site entrance, taking pictures all along the road. When we finally turned around and started back to town, we discovered that the restaurant had closed, and some of the small shops were going to close soon. y going to a couple of stores we managed to cobble together our Thanksgiving dinner. We found canned tuna, crackers, a tomato, cheese, and water. The food last year wasn't as good as what I had this year, but the company was a whole lot better.
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