Two whole days, devoted to family.
...
Who'm I kidding? Two days devoted to FOOD. And some family, thrown in there for good measure.
This holiday? Designed for me. Oh, I know the whole story about the Pilgrims, and the parched corn and the what have you. It's nice, but you and I both know that in the midst of all the thanksing and the giving that they were doing with the Indians, the whole group of them were thinking "You know, some day, there's going to be this lady. And she's going to need a whole holiday - ah, make it two - devoted to food. Turkey would be nice. Sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, and stuffing will make her pretty happy. Make it so."
A little history lesson from the woman who spent forty thousand on a post secondary education in the Arts. Specifically History.
You're welcome.
This year, we might even get three Thanksgivings. Saturday my mom's extended family got together to celebrate, which we've never done before. It was great (Hi Rhonda!).
This guy spent most of the time on the floor, pushing cars around and making "vroom" noises.
Success.
But it meant we missed out on spending Thanksgiving with just our immediate family, so it's very possible we'll be doing that at Mom's house within the next two weeks. I'm calling it Thanksgiving: The Sequel, and am more excited about it than most sequels, particulary Clone Wars.
...
Sunday. Picnic time. This weather is the kind of weather that I'll look back on three months from now, in the depths of moaning winter, with dry knuckles, cold feet, and three more months of cold to look forward to, and wish ardently I had done more to enjoy.
So we got ourselves outside. My Dad found us a secret spot at a local park, away from all of these people, who had the same idea:
There was some hiking,
Some duck watching and wintergreen eating,
And - of course - some general silliness.
Oh yes. And eating. (Thanks for packing the lunch, Mom.) This guy spent most of the time on the ground, falling down and making "oomph" noises.
Success.
...
Today, after the walk, and the trip to the playground, and the other walk, I found myself staring at a five pound bag of carrots.
So what does one do when confronted by carrots purchased two weeks ago for two dollars and dangerously close to turning to the dark side?
One cuts them up, sautes some onions in butter, and simmers the carrots and onions in chicken stock until the whole mess is soft. Pureed with the immersion blender and frozen in ziploc bags, it's the base for about six kinds of soup that I don't have any diffuculty eating, especially at six thirty on a work night after getting home late and forgetting to thaw or prep anything the night before.
Saturday, Sunday, Monday. All busy, all fun.
Success.
(Also: "That I don't have any difficulty eating?" Please. It's like you don't know me at all.)
