procrastination at its best.


I should go back to my paper, and I will momentarily, after I get the remaining bottle of coke out of my car before it freezes, and after I blog about Thanksgiving.

Wednesday it started. I went over to my parents house, and dove into baking. Thirty onion rolls and twenty eight sweet rolls later, my brother and I made an apple pie. Now, that’s less bread than we’ve ever made before, but we only had 19 people, half the family was missing. And when I say apple pie, I don’t mean a little 9” pie plate full of pie. I mean an industrial baking sheet full of pie, and 14 pounds of apples. I was there from 3:30 until almost 11. I was sooooo tired. But, as I said to my mom, this is my holiday and this is how it goes. I don’t know what else to do.

Thursday, the husband got lost on the couch. Actually he got lost on Wednesday too, but Thursday was a bit of a bigger deal. I got to my parents around 10:15, and started right back in. Green bean casserole, turkeys to carve, sausage and city chicken to cook, tables to set, things to locate (like 9 industial bar glasses that would make an amaretto sour proud), beer to locate and a missing husband and crew to find.

And then I came home and napped. There was eating and things to be done, and I should have worked on the paper, but I was whipped.

And now I’m eating leftovers, turkey, stuffing, and the bacon my mom put on the turkey breast to keep it moist, all smashed together and pan fried. Yummy.

I think I want to make latke for Christmas. I haven’t had them in ages.


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