Home again, home again, jiggety jog.
Thanksgiving dinner was very nice, and very delicious. It was just the four of us and David's mom, Rosaleen. This morning, between floats and performances during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, we got dinner in the oven in stages. Okay, I use the term 'we' very loosely. Rosaleen did nearly all of it. All I did was open two cans of corn and a box of corn muffin mix (but I made up for it by washing dishes afterward). The 'fresh' turkey she had paid extra for turned out to be frozen on the inside, which would kind of be impossible for an actual quoteless fresh turkey. I've found that as I mature, cranberry jelly grows on me (not LITERALLY). I used to hate it, but I took a big slice today and ate every smidget. Still not fond of sweet potatoes, though. At least not as sweet potatoes. I do like 'em in pie, though.
David has to work tomorrow, unfortunately, so after digesting for a couple of hours, we piled back in the truck and headed home. Think I'm headed to bed soon, so I can get up early and stay home for Black Friday. Wooo!
Today I am so grateful for the abundant blessings bestowed on me that I'll never even begin to deserve. I'm grateful for a God that loves me no matter how obstinate I can be. I'm grateful for family, for freedom, for the men and women who are serving our country away from home.
Hugs and blessings to you!
When They Go High, You Go Logo
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I love a good hand-piped logo wreck. It says, "YAY TEAM!" without all that
pretentious "artistry" and/or "talent."
For instance, bakers, you *know* that ...
22 hours ago
1 comment:
You know, I always thought it was weird that Papa Ventura loved sweet potatoes. Then I married into the Beaver family and their sweet potatoes are something else! Then bake them, then cut them up and put them in a casserole dish (round) with rum, butter and brown sugar and bake the whole shabang. After that they put marshmallows on the top and put it back in the oven just until the marshmallows blow up and turn brown. Oh, yeah. So good.
Love you.
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