Story in NYT Sunday says more people are eating in. As goes Thanksgiving so goes the country. Got me thinking. I love eating out as much as the next metrosexual, but it's not because of the food. I happen to have a husband who could rival Andy Husbands, I go out for theater. I love ordering a drink, lingering over the menu and trying to figure out what wilted hericourt greens would taste like next to a cider-reduction chop. To me the best part is the 20 or so minutes before the meal arrives. The chatting, sipping looking around to see who will pop in. I didn't realize pinstrips were back and leopard-spotted ankle warmers. So whilst eating over the burning home fires can save mega bucks, I know what my cat will be wearing. True, I love the taste of a homecooked meal (one that Gourmet Guy made of course) and being able to chow down in my sweats, but I'm not prepared to cash in my tickets to the theater of life. Are you?