OK. OK. So, that last post was
a little over the top. I’m better now – it’s amazing how a dose of Project Runway can revive the spirits in a slump. You know, it’s fine to give me a verbal rapping when I’ve so obviously gone off the deep end. Thanks, Leslie. The rest of you lurkers can stop plotting your “intervention.”
This week has been all about planning for Thanksgiving. We will be gathering in the Ozarks – 18 of us – and the remoteness of our meeting point requires what can only be described as “extreme” planning. Across several states, and spanning generations, one can almost hear the paper-rustling sounds of lists being made and the repetitious bleeps of grocery store scanners drifting into the ether as we venture out to gather our mealtime supplies.
Greatest Husband describes my contribution as “The Parade of Pies,” a category I hope is expansive enough to include at least one cake among the apple and cherry pies (two of each). Then, there’s the matter of 15 lbs. of organic russet potatoes waiting to be turned into twice-baked delicacies, an order of cranberry-apricot confit, cranberry-orange relish and the yet-to-be-determined vegetable offering. And that’s only for Thanksgiving. The crowd will be assembled for another two nights.
Grand. Simply grand.
One more note for today : Happy fourth wedding anniversary to my son and daughter-in-law. Congratulations, kids. We can’t wait to eat pie with you next week.