I was thinking of live-blogging Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. The apple pie was about to go in the oven and it looked very nice, sealed up, brushed with a little milk, and encircled with bright orange silicon pie crust protectors.
(These are the best thing ever if you are a pie-baker. Thank you, niece Gerianne, for knowing how happy these would make me every time I bake a pie.)
The live-blogging got as far opening up my laptop and setting it on the kitchen butcher-block table. But I couldn't quite bring myself to place to buttered-and-floured fingers on the keyboard. It would be one more thing I'd have to clean up later.
So instead, it's random thoughts from a woman who is up too early this morning, but who should be using that time for one last run to the grocery store.
Thanksgiving cooking -- or at least, the thinking about Thanksgiving cooking -- got a late start this year. There was work to do all weekend, and some kind of stomach bug to contend with on Monday and Tuesday. There aren't any exotic ideas in this year's Thanksgiving dinner, and not much that's creamed or rich or au gratin. Couldn't bear to think of that stuff two days ago.
Our family has grown to an astounding size, with spouses and fiancés, significant others, and a new generation of children. I count 21 for dinner. With a dining room table that seats 8 comfortably, 10 closely, 12 squished.
It took a beer--a New Belgium Fat Tire--to get me started in the kitchen yesterday afternoon, after an hour and a half of "my house will never be clean" anxiety. I never vacuum under the couch cushions. Heck, I almost never vacuum. Why did that become so important yesterday afternoon?
Cooking Thanksgiving dinner is a lot of work, though I suppose it's only as much work as one decides it's going to be. And timing it all is challenging. I spend a day and half thinking, what can I be doing now to make things easier tomorrow/this afternoon/an hour from now.
The list was running through my head as I get out of bed. Turkey in the oven at noon. Stuffing casserole dishes at 3. Take them out of the fridge earlier. Don't forget the rolls. Gluten-free cornbread in the cast iron skillet. Traditional corn bread in the molds. Wine goes in the refrigerator when the turkey comes out. Set the table as soon the turkey goes in. And figure out what's going to have to happen in the living room.
At least one chair from the living room will have to go in the bedroom--how else will we be able to open up that extra table? When will this happen? How many of my kids will I have to persuade to go along with this? Will they have a better idea?
Yeesh--I'm going to the grocery store. Back home. Church. Many descants.
It's all good. It will be good enough. God is good.