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Today I entered The Prodigal in the last of several literary contests, this one the Indie Reader Discovery Awards.essay help  Now my little tome is all tucked in, kissed for good luck, and pulling hard for glory in a dozen or so different book prizes to be awarded between now and next summer.  There will be a big hoo-hah in New York City for the annual Book Expo America in late May 2014, and several sponsoring organizations will announce the winners of their literary contests there.  I for one am hoping I get to squire Susan around the streets of Manhattan to accept something—anything, honorable mention, passing reference, can-you-believe-this-guy-actually-entered-award, even a booby prize—at one of these galas.

That’s because, I suppose, I am an inveterate winer and diner.  Since I met Susan, nothing (well, almost nothing) has been so much fun as cooking for her, treating her, spoiling her, heading out on the town, down the road, and just exploring the world together.  In that vein, I made reservations today for a couples getaway in colonial Williamsburg for a few days this fall.  Williamsburg became an instant favorite for us when we spent a few days there last year.  Something came in the mail saying they were running an autumn special that includes the public trial of a woman for witchcraft, and I knew we had to go back.  We love all the super corny family stuff—tearing up and feeling a chill as the Declaration of Independence is read by re-enactors in costume, the canon fire, the candles, the quill pens, the fife and drums, the three corner hats, the hoop skirts, the blacksmiths and hearth fires, the old houses, the warmly lit taverns  . . . I just never get tired  of it.

We’ll go to mass in Bruton Parish, the age-old Episcopal Church that sits within the historic district.  A child of the family who lived in the Ewing Shop, the eighteenth century historic cottage where we’ll be staying—four poster bed, fireplace and all—was baptized there more than 200 years ago.   I will gain five pounds on the peanut soup, crusty bread, cider, and locally brewed stout at the Josiah Chowning Tavern, and I will do my best to make Susan scream on the Tavern Ghost Walk.

It’s wonderful that fall is upon us, again.