because visits home can never really be reconciled in just one post.
i realized this time that thanksgiving is the most expensive meal i have of the year. except instead of getting dressed and going to an overpriced and overrated restaurant, i go home and eat the things i did while i was growing up. and people do it all over the country, every year.
i got the chance to talk with andrew about yiddish policemen's union, which i talked him into reading, but then never heard how he thought about it. turns out my recs are made of win, because he did like it, after the first 90 pages and it makes me so happy because god i loved that book and i love that i can share it. he also told me about some story ideas that he had and i wish that he would write them. because the only reason i ever picked up a pen to put story to paper was because he said he was going to and god forbid i not be a competitive little shit. i finished the story i worked on and andrew only wrote one page, but his one unfinished page was light years better than my nine pages of ten-year-old badly written mystery fiction. he writes beautifully and i wish that he would because i would love to read his stories. even if they are a harder sci-fi than i tend to like.
the other great things about going home is that i get the chance to read a lot, because well, it's a very small town, all my hs friends moved away and there is literally nothing to do but go to the beach and die. while i was driving through town, i realized that about 80 percent of the businesses are all health care businesses to keep the elderly alive just a little longer. it's very strange and not a little unsettling.( books are cool! )