Happy Saturday, Stroock's Books weekenders.
Well, we chauffeured Oldest Daughter and date to the senior prom last night. This being Chindia, his parents hale from Bengal. He's a nice, polite, dare it be said, goodlooking young man.
The prom was at a country club an hour away.* We dropped the cute couple off, went to a local diner and then hung out at a nearby Barnes and Noble for a few hours where we tried not to come off like a psycho killer casing the joint for his next victim [You failed-Ed].
The lovely couple had a fun time at the prom, we sensed. Driving the kids back home, we felt like we were in a Sixpence none the Richer song.
We admit to getting a little emotional, sentimental even.
The Things:
We pounded away all week on World War 1990: Thatcher's War. We're almost done with the interlude chapter and almost ready to write the Armagh chapter. World War 1990: Thatcher's War is 67,000 words.
*Wow, they let a Jewish girl and her Indian date into a fancy country club. We've come a long way. In truth this was a north Jersey country club and we definitely got a gaudy Goodfellas vibe as we saw lots of ostentatious fixtures and decoratives. 'No, no, Joey. This is important to Marie. Get the extra ruffles with the tux,' if you know what I mean.
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