It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Thanksgiving

November 26, 2009

As a semi-reformed procrastinator, I put off Thanksgiving prep until yesterday morning. There was a time, ok maybe even last year, or the year before, when I waited until Thanksgiving morning and then remembered all the things that should have been started at least one day in advance. So, for me, I wasn't doing too badly.

Though if anyone says anything about wiping pumpkin off the ceiling, I have no idea what they're talking about.

The only problem with my clever plan, is that almost everything in the world I needed to turn out a nice dinner was still packed. I had to haul in all the kitchen boxes from the cottage, and all the food boxes, too. It's getting too cold to leave canned food outside here, since eventually it will burst.

Even with all the boxes, I couldn't find my measuring spoons. Still haven't, for that matter. I had to run to town anyway, so now I'll have two sets. Eventually. What with the trip to town for Jack (note: you don't really think I would go to the store the day before Thanksgiving for MY benefit, do you?) and Damon being sick with the Whine Flu, I didn't get nearly as much done as I wanted. In fact, I nodded off on the couch trying to get him to stop fussing. Half past midnight, and I woke up enough to get the soy chicken skins in their overnight marinade before keeling over again.

First thing in the morning, I had to run to town one last time (note: ditto) before beginning my meal prep and trying to get my disaster area cleaned up so we could eat. As the day wore on...and on...and on......things began to drop off the menu, one by one. No way was I getting rid of the mashed potatoes and gravy, though.

I'm not even a little bit ashamed to admit that I always use instant mashed potatoes, whether for every day or special events. They taste better, and are faster and cleaner besides. Sounds like win win win to me! (Tina always made the real mashed potatoes for our holiday dinners.) The only reason I departed from my luscious tradition this year was a nice lady from church gave us a 5 gallon bucket filled with giant homegrown potatoes. So, for the second time in my life, I tried my hand at home-made.

If anyone blathers on about blenders and mashed potatoes, don't listen to them. I don't have any idea what they're talking about.

I boiled the potatoes, but since I was running every shorter on time, my obliging kitchen helper, Tiggy, had to help out with the mashing. She added the milk just like I told her to, and mashed her little heart out. That doesn't sound so good. Let's just say she tried real hard.

Tiggy and I had another little surprise up our sleeves. While Jack was busy frying the chicken skins, she and I sneaked down and got our kitchen table out of the shop. The long, farmhouse-style eating counter was fine for everyday, but we wanted to be able to all sit down at a table for a special dinner. Together.

The first anyone knew of it, we burst through the kitchen door, grunting, perspiring, and with difficulty maneuvering the legs around the door jamb. Voila! Instant family dinner! (Some chairs would have been nice. We made do with the piano bench, stools, and Jack's office chair.) It was a roaring success, if by success you mean slopping sparkling cider on the new tablecloth (oh wait - that was me), and swapping uncultured stories, like when Devon's pants fell down on the playground - while he was dangling from the monkey bars. Some of these stories have already been told to the pastor on his Bible study visits, I'm sorry to say. And it wasn't long before we discovered that our potatoes were mashed in name only.

It was perfect.

The only thing that could have made it better would be to have the whole family with us, too. We missed you guys!

Until next year,
Always thankful