The anniversary of Mother’s death, the news that Colin is returning, Thanksgiving planning, sorting through estate stuff . . . and I am progressing like an Etch-a-Sketch line produced by using my toes while blindfolded. It, like the image I just created, is not pretty.
But I am here and I have my cocktail shrimp in the freezer ready to thaw and my turkey in the refrigerator actually thawing. I have eggs to be deviled and a special yam dish for Der Bingle. I know where the ricer is for the mashed potatoes. I have corn to fry and the roaster is clean and ready to go.
This is one of my least favorite things, dontcha know – cooking.
I will talk to Rose and Sophie and hope they will hypnotize me into believing I am reading a book while I deal with those things you find in the turkey’s cavities. Oh, yuck, that was not something I wanted to pre-think.
I don’t know . . . Summer and I talked about getting an oil fryer and dropping the turkey (still frozen) in it from an upstairs window. The fireworks would really highlight the day.