Day Eight

It was thanksgiving morning. 

Furrgus and I immediately checked the garden. The vegetables were still there. 

But when we got back in Zita was not only awake but had already covered the dining room table with her work.

I had to remind her that perhaps it had slipped her mind but this was a holiday. 

Apparently she knew. 

Craig did not get up for quite a while as he was listening to a new book while snug as a bug in bed. 

But when he did get up he made Zita a cappuccino and himself a strong espresso. We are very Italian in the morning.

Zita had hers in front of the big computer. 

Such is working life I suppose. 

Niamh went for her own coffee with a friend before she and Zita did some more practice driving. 

It was another beautiful day outside so we convinced Dugal to accompany us our daily constitutional. 

We pointed out that his presence will be required at tonight’s soirée and a dose of fresh air would do him good. 

And it kept him away from the assembling cheese trove, not to mention the wine. 

Miss Tara needed milk in cans for tonight’s dinner. 

Fortunately we had some in the emergency stash in the basement. 

Now that can brought back memories. 

It was amazing how many cans of condensed milk bunch of  “Squadies” can go through. 

We used to fill the every cranny of the tanks with those cans. 

Miss Tara arrived with a large basket of ingredients.

And herself.

So all three immediately set to work with their loaves and fishes in order to feed the multitudes. 

We and Mister T stayed out of the way. Experience is a great teacher. 

We tried to sleep but the smells wafting from the kitchen made that impossible so we brushed ourselves until we glistened. 

Could not let down the family with a hum drum turnout. 

When we peeked into the kitchen and Mrs. T, Niamh and Tara were knee deep in potatoes. 

And the wine was pilling up in the corner. 

We hustled Dugal away before he started to comment on the choices. 

Then Aidan and Richard arrived so Mrs. T put plates of cheese and biscuits on the footstool and the soirée began.

There was a full plate of shrimp too. I had to restrain Uncle. 

Richard got his own plate of cheese as the others were not sharing.

Then Kathy arrived with even more food. And the kitchen buzzed with activity.

We hid in the foyer.  It was safer.