We spent Thanksgiving with about 20 of Dearest Partner's relatives in Perkasie, Bucks County.
Thanksgiving dinner there is always a laid-back event, with no politics or family minefields. Two well-behaved dogs, a yellow Lab and a black pit bull, wandered around enjoying the attention.
The hosts have a wonderful garden, so we enjoyed fresh carrots and Brussels sprouts. There's also a nearby dairy, Penn View Farm, that makes amazing chocolate milk (much like Baily's in Pocopson), bottled in old-fashioned glass containers.
Two of the guests this year were among the walking wounded. One man had his right arm in a sling after undergoing bicep tendon reattachment surgery, and his wife and kids were really quite solicitous, bringing him food, making sure his afflicted arm was properly positioned and cutting his turkey for him. (I did see him attempt to cut another slice of pumpkin pie for himself, with limited success.)
I had fun helping little Bella, who's in first grade, read a picture book about a monster called the Nibbler. Some of the writing was in cursive, but she did a fine job of deciphering it. She even sounded out tricky words like "gnaw" and "knock." I had a flashback to my own learning-to-read days when the word "cupboard" appeared. I vividly remember feeling irritated when the teacher corrected me and told me it's pronounced "cubberd": it's clearly "cup" and "board"!
Bella is a quick-witted child. We were carrying baskets of rolls from the kitchen into the dining room.
"Bella!" I asked her, looking to find some available space amidst the place settings, bowls, and casserole dishes. "Where shall we put the rolls?"
"On the table," she said, not missing a beat.
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