We Just Can't Put it Off Any Longer . . .

Thanksgiving's here--almost. As I write, the kitchen's organized chaos. It's a little bit before 8 p.m., and I've made clam dip, spinach dip, and turkey stuffing. I've hard boiled eggs for deviled eggs and I'm soft setting lime jello for a salad (I don't know what's come over me--I've NEVER had any desire to make a jello salad--which seems like a serious contradiction in terms to me anyway--but for some reason, lime and pineapple jello salad made its way onto my menu this year). The cream cheese/pesto/sundried tomato spread is in the refrigerator. As is the premade, store-bought chocolate cream pie.

Hubby's sick and it's probably all my fault. Sometime last week, he stepped on a pin and shoved it pretty well into his big toe. A couple days later, signs of infection were apparent, and on Saturday morning when I got up, he was gone, visiting the urgent care clinic. They gave him antibiotics and Vicodin, and his toe's been improving. BUT--and here's the complication: Yesterday he came down with a cold or the flu, most likely something he picked up at the clinic. And on top of that? He's having a Meniere's attack right now. He's taken something for it and is sound asleep on the recliner, head back, mouth open, with a cat in his lap.

Do you know about the Breatharians? A bunch of nut cases as near as I can figure, but right about now, I'm thinking about running away and joining them. You see, Breatharians don't eat food, which means never having to spend a lot of time in the kitchen cooking. Not at Thanksgiving, not at Christmas, not ever! If you read the Wikipedia article I linked to, you'll see that every now and then, they might run into 7-Eleven or a fast food place to get some junk food, and I think I could handle that! Maybe when Hubby wakes up from his nap, he'll find a note pinned to his shirt, telling him I've run off to join the Breatharians, and could he please clean up the kitchen because I'm never going to need it again?

Soccer Son, the Wild Child, and their significant others are coming for dinner on Thanksgiving. Would they be disappointed if I wasn't here? More importantly, perhaps, Collins mix is chilling in the refrigerator, to be mixed with red Christmas glogg and "tested." All that hard work and aging for weeks for nothing? Well, maybe I WILL head back into the kitchen for a bit, but I'll keep my bags packed, just in case I change my mind. I reserve the right to do that--it's tattoo'd onto my forehead.

I think I'm about half way there as far as cooking goes. I still have to cut up the French bread for the spinach dip, mash up egg yolks for the deviled eggs, make a pumpkin pie, put together the jello salad, and if I have any energy left, make a batch of Amanda's pumpkin gob cookies.

You know what? I just realized that once I'm done cooking, I won't have to cook again for about a week. That's kind of like the Breatharians but different, 'cause I'll have good stuff to eat! There, I feel MUCH better now! Thanks for listening to me!

I hope you and yours have a wonderful Thanksgiving!