Personal Narrative Essay: A Day In Illinois

Now with no doubt, we eat our feast. First, we cook the Hot Wings because we don’t eat Turkey. Everybody loves Hot Wings. Then we buy soda that everyone likes, so that nobody is left behind in their choice. We also make Mashed Potato.

We grew in our understanding of the trail and of course in our individual abilities. Sometimes we fell silent but others were full of laughter and the innocence of getting to know another. We were also privy to meet Teresa and become part of their family for the course of a few weeks. Teresa’s culinary delights and warm personality always greeted our tired and stinky self’s during our reprieves. Thanksgiving was spent in warmth with a real turkey instead of the instant Idaho potatoes and tuna fish we had already anticipated.

While the Watson family is dreaming profoundly, they don’t hear the floor moan until the bed makes a whole on the floor. Mr. and Mrs. Watson saw Mercy skedaddled from bed thinking she was going to get help from the fire department; however, Mercy was escaping to search for the hot buttered toast she has been dreaming about. 2. Mercy Watson Goes for a Ride Mercy Watson love car rides, yet not as much as she loves hot buttered toast. Mr. Watson loves to take Mercy Watson in his convertible for a car ride, so one Saturday afternoon Mr. Watson and Mercy Watson take the convertible on the road.

I went and played basketball with all my cousins and finally when the second turkey was ready ( I didn't ruin this one) we all sat down and ate a wonderful Thanksgiving meal. When the time came for everyone to start heading home we helped everyone gather their stuff and wished them farewell. When everyone had left my dog ran in with the same turkey he had stolen (it was half eaten by now) and dropped it at my feet. I guess he had just wanted some turkey too.

I loved the counter where Grandpa kept the penny candy in large glass jars. If I was good and helped him pick up stuff that dropped on the floor, he would give me one piece of candy. That 's how I learned to work for Grandpa, but Dad kept telling me that I couldn 't work for candy all

This summer was filled with great times and a lot of fun with the family. For example, my trip to Cape Cod, Massachusetts. It all started out at 7:30 AM and with me, I was my morning self wearing baggy sweatpants, and an out of control bed head awaiting to be tamed. My sister Sam and I gather our things before we head into grandma’s car for a trip of a lifetime.

His father had put hickory chips on the charcoal and the smell of the cooking turkey and hickory smoke had filled the yard. When his father took the lid off, smiling, the smell that had come out was unbelievable, and when they sat to eat, the meat was wet with juice and rich and had the taste of the smoke in it. He had to stop this.” This memory affected Brian in a bad way. He thought of the last Thanksgiving he had with his family before the divorce.

As for long as I can remember I’ve loved Tacos, not only tacos but as well as Taco Pie. I can always remember being absolutely ecstatic when I would figure out that we would be eating Taco pie that night. Although I loved it terribly we didn 't have it often so whenever we did have it I was that much happier. Whenever I have Taco pie now I always think back to earlier years of how excited I was about having it.

She said Walking slowly, surrounded by towering shelves, and free samples everywhere, we made our way towards the back of the store. The temptation to climb the shelves was tempting, but easily resistible. This is where the fresh foods were made, thus, a strong savory scent wafted in my direction. This was the smell of 40 rotisserie chickens cooking in an industrial sized machine for cooking the chickens they use in the foods they freshly package daily. As we passed the liquor section, we saw large glass cases with different kinds of fish lying in piles of ice.

I attempted to eat some mashed potatoes, hoping that they wouldn’t cause me to puke, but as I felt bile rising in my throat, I wisely thought that it would be better if I didn’t attempt to eat anything else for the rest of the evening. For the rest of the night, I watched my relatives put the glorious food on their plates, and stuff their mouths with dessert with their insatiable appetite, and I repeatedly asked my parents if we could go home so I could wallow in peace. After what seemed like eons, my parents agreed to bring me home. Because I didn’t eat any Thanksgiving food, I sulked in the car all the way home. Little did I know that my day would soon worsen and take a turn for the worse…

There are many reasons why Los Corrales is my favorite spot to dine in on a Sunday night. I never knew about this place until my dad came home one and night and explained to us he had ordered a quesadilla and he couldn’t believe his eyes. My mouth got watery as he explained the quesadilla was as long as twelve inches and filled with beef and melted Chihuahua cheese on the inside and how the cheese was starting to come out the edges of the corn tortilla and, with some hot sauce it couldn’t get any better. Los Corrales has a selection from the sea, American and, Mexican food. When I step foot into this restaurant I feel at home not only because of their very fine made Mexican style of cooking but, because all of the employees are extremely friendly and, glad to help their customers.

I skipped over to my grandpa sweetly asking, “May I please have the gator keys?” “Yes, you may” he replied teasingly dangling the keys just above my reach. I jumped up, grabbed the keys, and ran off yelling, “Thanks!” Hopping in the gator, I turned the key, gripped the rough wheel, and stepped hard on the gas pedal (I was known for being quite speedy).

The scenery in these chapters were very vivid and made me feel as though I was in the story. For example, The curving bay with the waves creaming on the sand, the dunes country around seaside and right at the bottom of the hill, the

I had taken to guarding the beer from marauders or the occasional raccoon with a drinking problem and had done an exemplary job at it too. Once we had a nice, even bed of hot coals we went ahead and threw a half dozen or so foil-wrapped potatoes in the fire for baking, and while they cooked we sat back and listened to The Grateful Dead jamming out on the radio Charlie brought. (How fitting for a Halloween night, I remembered

A fat pig had been roasting in a back of hot coals all day and the local women had prepared a buffet of available foodstuffs and deserts for them to eat; all in all, it promised to be a good night. Sitting at a table, along with the mayor and several other businessmen, Thomas smiled politely at their jokes and offered a few of his own; however, his main goal was to establish trade. Not long into the night, he had his answers. British ships had already begun meeting blockade runners there in Nassau, mainly to trade cotton for British