11.29.2003 - 4:20 p.m.
I did it! I hosted my first
Thanksgiving dinner, and nothing caught on fire or tasted like
roadkill or was, knock wood, filled with a deadly poison. I feel
so full of womanliness (well, and turkey) I can practically ovulate
The hardest part about doing
the meal was the notion of everything needing to be served all
at once without letting things get cold or congealing or whatever.
People seem to expect that they'll get the potatoes and the gravy
at the same time, you know? That's hard, especially when
your gravy is being a fucking asshole about thickening and the
potatoes are threatening to overcook and four other things need
to be stirred and you've only got two arms, dammit.
If you do not have a potato
ricer? And you need to, at some point in your life, produce mashed
potatoes? Dude. Get one. Now. Go. Run. To a store. That sells
Because the potato ricer is
the best invention ever. You don't have to do any Beetle-Bailey-KP-esque-laboring-in-the-kitchen-all-damn-afternoon-PEELING,
for instance. Or mashing. You just load your cooked potato hunks
into the ricer and blooooort, they squash through into
these wormy little whatchamathingies that magically transform
into kick-ass mashed wonderfulness when you mix in your milk,
butter, forty thousand tons of garlic, etc.
I also have to give props to
the turkey bag. The freaky plastic bag that seals in moisture
yet somehow doesn't melt and make your turkey taste like one
big horrible Shrinky-Dink.
Anyway, the gravy finally thickened,
the stuffing turned out to be freaking awesome (recipe is here; this was also really good), we got everything
on the table, JB carved his first roast beast, and we sat down
as a family to our holiday dinner. It was great.
If you were celebrating, I
hope you had a good holiday too.
THE OVERLY MAWKISH "I
LOVE YOU MAN" STUFF:
At a time of year where we
are supposed to be counting our blessings, I am very aware that
I'm a lucky person. I think overall I have a life where there
is little to complain about, and I never wanted this journal
to be about complaining anyway.
Like everyone, though, I do
have some elements of my life that give me a lot of stress. (My
job, for instance. This past week at Workplace has been one of
the worst, hands down. Tuesday especially was a roiling mass
of lameness, a day that was just so miserable I went home and
bawled in JB's arms until my eyelids puffed completely shut.
Beauty tip to self: don't do this again, EVER.)
I try not to dwell on the stressy
stuff here. In general, I focus on the lighthearted part of my
life in this journal more than the negative (with some, ha ha,
exceptions, of course), and I really think it helps me
to balance out the crappiness that life can dish up sometimes.
This journal is like a haven
for me. It's like a treehouse where I can sit with you and tell
you things and you listen and give me advice. It makes me feel
good. It cheers me up all the time, is what I'm saying.
If I had a lousy day on Tuesday,
I had a great day on Wednesday when I found out I'm a
finalist for two different Diarist Awards. I'm so goddamned
honored, you guys. That just seriously rocks my world so much.
Thank you, whoever nominated me. And thank you (and you!)
And now from The Department
of Do You Want a Biscuit? Do You? Do You?:
I plan my attack.
I plot, I crouch, I approach. Stupid humans, lulled by my cowlike
eyes and pathetically eager expression. Fools! All of them! And
now, when the time is juuuuust right....I am juuuust close enough...
SUCCESS! THE BISCUIT
IS (GLOMP) MINE!
I plan my attack.
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004