Dylan worked that turkey leg; look at his form...elbows on the table, eyes down. Intensity...that's what I like to see.
"Smile Brina!" Apparently, this said by me several times translates into this face from one of our resident comedians.
Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. All of those "daddies" just to get all of the yummy rolls. I'm on to you Miss Veronica....
The honorable Grandpa Roger & Grandma Pam joined us for our harried, but wonderful Thanksgiving meal. They have had a rough few months. Hosting the meal in our home was the least we could do to encourage them during this emotional season, I hope we're starting a new tradition.
Alas, the guest of honor.
There was a salad with 6 different chopped vegetables, cranberry chutney, pickles, pickles and more pickles. There were black, oops, I mean African-American olives and green olives (no discrimination here), stuffing with raisins and wild rice. Yummy garlic mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce out of the can (a must), ham, turkey, rolls - the simple super hit and homemade butternut squash soup. There were a small sampling of Glory greens and a side of peas (trying to go more "green" around here, get it? green - ha). We rounded out the meal with two pies...pecan and pumpkin (which came with a 15 minute discussion about where the "sweet potato pie" was even though we were all referring to the pumpkin one). We had soda, wine and juice to drink and by the man of the house's leadership we shared our thanks a little differently this year. Each person wrote down things they were good at and then one thing they wanted to be better at. I think I missed the ultimate point of what he was leading us to (I was on my 2nd of 3 plates at that point) but everyone couldn't help smile as we shared our "goodies" - things we're good at - and everyone acknowledged them. Warm fuzzies are Mark's speciality.
Okay, I debated for about a millisecond about this and decided I needed to let you know that I cooked over half of the items above and that THEY ALL TURNED OUT SUCCESSFULLY. For those of you who knew me in the old days and saw me in a kitchen; I know you may be tempted to think that I'm be in denial or just plain bending the truth, but I did it. Me, little miss organizer, turned into a little miss "Top Chef, Julia Child, Emeril, Bobby Flay" apprentice. I spent 5 hours cooking in our kitchen on Thanksgiving day. I put a DVD in (4 Christmases) opened a bottle of wine (Mark had some too!) and flitted around our kitchen like a cooking fairy - not just because of the wine. I was light, I was fast, I was humming; it was pure joy. I had already made up my mind that when everyone came to the table, I was not going to allow any opposing comments to wreck what I felt God and I cooked up together in that kitchen (again, it was something pretty special).
And earlier in the day, reading from "My Life in France: Julia Child", I came across this...
"I don't believe in twisting yourself into knots of excuses and explanations over the food you make. When one's hostess starts in with self-deprecations such as 'Oh, I don't know how to cook...,' or 'Poo little me...,' or "This may taste awful...,' it is so dreadful to have to reassure her that everything is delicious and fine, whether it is or not. Besides, such admissions only draw attention to one's shortcomings (or self-perceived shortcomings), and make the other person think, 'Yes, you're right, this really is an awful meal!' (page 71). This was empowering and I felt I was being cheered on by Mrs. Child. I put that food on the table - hot dishes burn the plastic covers on card tables, by the way - and stepped back and all I could hear was "well done, good & faithful servant".
So with that..we ate (and ate, and then ate some more) and enjoyed a very Happy Thanksgiving!
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