Thanksgiving, 2004

(Excerpt from one of my notebooks)

I walked out the door and was surprised to see remnants of the previous night's nasty fury. A few inches of snow on the ground and patches of ice here and there. Chilly, but not unbearable. Melissa and I chatted briefly on her couch as we sipped some delectable red wine to help me start off slowing down the day to a relaxed state of mind. She had made a 2:00pm reservation for us at the Chicago Diner on Halsted and told me not to argue---the meal was her treat. I thought that was kind and generous of her. Inside, I thought it had a quirky, individualistic sense to it and reminded me of the restaurant Toast (where Mike and I have had a few scrumptous breakfasts).

There were three colorful heart shaped paintings on the wall and people watching was one of the many fun things to experience while there. Off and on I pondered whether this 20-30something woman and 40-50something woman were colleagues, friends, lovers (though I didn't get that vibe), or mother and daughter. What was peculiar was that I can almost guarantee they did not exchange more than a few words the whole time. Not that one or both people in an interaction with each other must always be talking incessantly, but no conversation at all? And the body language was hard to follow too. Were they each lost in their own worlds, looking at the ceiling, other people, seeing past the other person, as if each were dining alone (mentally)? Was there a language barrier? Were harsh words and regrets looming in the air before they sat down at this place? Or maybe just at a loss of words, both introspective, shy individuals having an internal dialogue of things to be grateful for within their own head? I never figured it out...interesting to watch nonetheless.

Melissa was eager to see the cute waiter she had told me about, quick to show a surprised hint of giddiness later when he revealed that he remembered her with a comment about her usual likings for milkshakes. Melissa was a bit turned off by his name, however, when she glanced at the receipt...Rusty. Ah, the poor boy. I suppose there are worse names though, right? All in perspective....

Let me just mention all the food to partake....a sweet combination of winter squash and apple soup with a sprinking of pumpkin seeds, rolls that came with a soft, creamy garlic flavored butter, mulled wine that had the smell of potpourri to warm the insides, a side salad with a taste delicious, but I can't quite identify, and for the main entree: pumpkin filled spinach ravioli with a walnut sauce for the topping, along with a side of stuffing, risotto with mushroom, a huge ass chunk of sweet potato, and then a slice of mint chocolate mousse cake for dessert (with coffee). I was so full, I couldn't even finish my entree, nor the cake. I took the meal for leftovers and finished it later, but alas, the poor slice of cake was abandoned by my finite appetite.