There Are No More Potato Chips Left


Welcome to the Thanksgiving Picto-post. As usual I made the Great Harvest Corn Bread Stuffing early in the morning but not as usual I got to add the last of the garden grown parsley and fresh baked breadbot bread to the mix. Tastee! I’m surprised the parsley made it this late in the year because…

Snow! We got it. It snowed some during the night in places that were not our home and flurried on throughout the day. It even stuck in those places where it snowed. I was a bit flabbergasted by that because we had absolutely nothing and no inkling of anything either but not five miles north there’s white everywhere. We live in an odd area I guess. A snow resistant area which…yay for the time being. I won’t be so happy come Christmas but I’ll deal with that then.

This was the Thanksgiving table this year. Mom said that she thought about whipping up a nice little centerpiece after reading the last post I made about how nice the table usually is. Then she gave in to her inner laziness and thought, “Nah.” I was a little sad that she didn’t have out her eclectic Christmas plates but she decided to go with my Grandma’s china this year. It seemed fitting and every once in a while you have to change things up else they go stale. I’m not sure how you tell a stale Christmas plate from a fresh one but just nod, smile and go along with me here.

PIES!! DQ made some delicious pies and the only reason we have these pics at all (and no other pic of the food) is because all the food was so good I totally forgot I was doing a picto-blog. Then when we were halfway through pie I remembered that I was supposed to be picto-posting the day. Doah. What you don’t see pictured, because we demolished it one and all, is the righteous Mom-made sweet potatoes with a side dish of pineapple something gravy (Faaaaabulous! In fact, it might have even been better than the sugary bits one usually puts on top of sweet potatoes but I’d have to have a side by side comparison just to make sure. And then maybe another in case I was in doubt and then another for posterity. Then of course yet another in order to get to an odd number of tastings. For some reason things just work out better that way). We also had regular taters, a right fine bird, green beans sans almondine, relish and smoked Thill’s fish for appetizers.

Then, of course, came the after dinner drinks and coffee. This is TheMan getting artsy funky with the camera. I like this shot because you can see the fingerprints on the glass. Hey FBI, here’s a little free something fingerprint something for you. I’m not sure who all’s prints they are (Mr. Paul poured and TheMan and I shared a glass) but have at it, crime lab. Where was I November 22nd 2007? Drinking SCOTCH Mr. Law&Order. HA!

Also, those cute dainty little coffee cup handles look really charming but are awfully impractical to actually use. So are you supposed to just pinch the handle like a tab? What’s the point of a handle anyway then? Weird. Other than that, I felt really fancy drinking out of a real honest to goodness china coffee cup. Lokit me, all sivilized!

Mom had a give away too. She picked these guys up from somewhere so we split them (TheMan, Me, DQ in order of finger puppet choosing L-R) amongst the “children” and had us some finger puppet fun. Wheee!

We hung about and gabbed until 9ish (I think) and then headed home. Stuffed. Mmmmm.

The After Thanksgiving Kitty Coma commenceth.

Last year at the booniverse: Recovering from food coma and not updating.

Last last year at the booniverse: If the songs of my youth are now “oldies” then the songs of my muses’s youth will have to be renamed “ancients”. She’s not going to be too pleased with that. I’m just sayin.

The year before at the booniverse: Can you say “Whoot, 3 day work week”? Can you also say “Will this day NEVER end”?

The year before that at the booniverse: JSFR: Almond Pucca.

One Response to “There Are No More Potato Chips Left”

  1. mum Says:

    Paul wants the world to know that it wasn’t just scotch, it was SINGLE MALT, 30 YEAR OLD SCOTCH.

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