I often wonder why I spend the time on the things I do. Because this girl can flutter and flitter and futz and floof for many many moons. Futz is a made up word I do believe but it has the same meaning as obsessively rearrange, it simply sounds a whole bunch better.
Yes, I often wonder why I spend the time in the late late night before Thanksgiving painting polka dots on burlap and why the next morning I rise after a couple hours of sleep to pour a cup of coffee and create Tom the Turkey Lurkey.
But then it always is answered. And it always is answered in the same manner. Because it's important to me. Futzing is important to me because I believe creating an atmosphere does indeed also alter moods and therefore creates the memories to be made.
Besides, have you ever seen four little chicken wings smile real big when you walk in the door with Tom the Turkey Lurkey? It makes it way worth only clocking a couple hours of sleep on your eyelids.
Remember how I said my sister-in-law and I did not discuss table decorations before hand. Food we discussed. Pretties we did not. It worked in our favor though, Sil had made up these adorable cookie turkeys and ice cream cone cornucopias the day before and then I wondered how she does what she does while wrastling four children. Amazing.
Remember how I said my sister-in-law and I decided to tackle the Thanksgiving meal...
and then my brother helped and my little sister helped and her boyfriend helped.
Here's the best part about all of that helping. My mom and dad were able to walk in to the house about an hour before the meal and enjoy their family.
Well...
We did have Momma Debi make the gravy while we took the opportunity to smile because no one quite does it like her. And my parents made the stuffing or dressing if you call it that for the same reasons.
And the lefse and the three kinds of homemade bread. Shoot.
Dad-o also carved the turkey, the real turkey, because some things are better not messed with.
But hey, us kids did Thanksgiving!
However, these feta, green onion, cranberry, and spinach rollups recipe sure did get added. They were very tasty.
Other than my epic fail of a couscous couscous cranberry salad, everything was delicious. While we all sat at one table and forks clinked against plates and apple cider sangria was sipped and laughs were exchanged, I said to my family, "This sure is nice." Sometimes simple is best.
Then the snow started to fall down outside and I pinched myself because naps were had and littles were snuggled and football was watched and crocheting was taught.
I crocheted with my grandma during my growing up years but it had been a long while since these fingers of mine did some looping so Momma Debi had to step in and offer guidance.
What happened next was Sister Pister showed not only has she apparently been the expert on homemade pie crusts for years, she also has been secretly crocheting because circles around me she went.
This moment made my heart squeeze. I often forget about the year my mom had cancer. I often forget she wasn't supposed to be able to talk anymore. I forget in a very good way but every once in awhile it comes creeping in all of a sudden and stops me in my tracks. To have her here. With her presence and her voice. To have her here to teach the next generation to crochet just as Grandma Gladys taught me. Heart Squeeze.
More to be thankful for than I ever realize. I'm blessed. Saying it simple is best.
Just when it seems you can't eat anymore, you make coffee because coffee gives the illusion a piece of pie would indeed fit.
This little bird told me our pumpkin pie making session from late the night before was a success.
And then when really it seems straight crazy to eat anymore, there still must be a transition to Christmas. Red tomatoes. Green basil. White mozarella. I'll pretend I planned it, me and all my futzing.
A Thanksgiving for the books it was. Tom the Turkey Lurkey and all. I'm not sure my parents will have Thanksgiving hosting back anytime soon; Sil and I are already discussing future holidays and I'm sure we'll drag the rest of the crew into the kitchen with us. For some reason, I think Momma Debi and Dad-o are perfectly happy with the notion.
Yes, I often wonder why I spend the time in the late late night before Thanksgiving painting polka dots on burlap and why the next morning I rise after a couple hours of sleep to pour a cup of coffee and create Tom the Turkey Lurkey.
But then it always is answered. And it always is answered in the same manner. Because it's important to me. Futzing is important to me because I believe creating an atmosphere does indeed also alter moods and therefore creates the memories to be made.
Besides, have you ever seen four little chicken wings smile real big when you walk in the door with Tom the Turkey Lurkey? It makes it way worth only clocking a couple hours of sleep on your eyelids.
Remember how I said my sister-in-law and I did not discuss table decorations before hand. Food we discussed. Pretties we did not. It worked in our favor though, Sil had made up these adorable cookie turkeys and ice cream cone cornucopias the day before and then I wondered how she does what she does while wrastling four children. Amazing.
Remember how I said my sister-in-law and I decided to tackle the Thanksgiving meal...
and then my brother helped and my little sister helped and her boyfriend helped.
Well...
We did have Momma Debi make the gravy while we took the opportunity to smile because no one quite does it like her. And my parents made the stuffing or dressing if you call it that for the same reasons.
And the lefse and the three kinds of homemade bread. Shoot.
And hey Little Man likes his kid wine too!
It's hard for me to admit, but pretty does not always equal pleasing. This salad was beautiful. Beautiful and not tasty, recipe did not go in my winner box.
However, these feta, green onion, cranberry, and spinach rollups recipe sure did get added. They were very tasty.
Other than my epic fail of a couscous couscous cranberry salad, everything was delicious. While we all sat at one table and forks clinked against plates and apple cider sangria was sipped and laughs were exchanged, I said to my family, "This sure is nice." Sometimes simple is best.
Then the snow started to fall down outside and I pinched myself because naps were had and littles were snuggled and football was watched and crocheting was taught.
What happened next was Sister Pister showed not only has she apparently been the expert on homemade pie crusts for years, she also has been secretly crocheting because circles around me she went.
This moment made my heart squeeze. I often forget about the year my mom had cancer. I often forget she wasn't supposed to be able to talk anymore. I forget in a very good way but every once in awhile it comes creeping in all of a sudden and stops me in my tracks. To have her here. With her presence and her voice. To have her here to teach the next generation to crochet just as Grandma Gladys taught me. Heart Squeeze.
More to be thankful for than I ever realize. I'm blessed. Saying it simple is best.
Just when it seems you can't eat anymore, you make coffee because coffee gives the illusion a piece of pie would indeed fit.
This little bird told me our pumpkin pie making session from late the night before was a success.
And then when really it seems straight crazy to eat anymore, there still must be a transition to Christmas. Red tomatoes. Green basil. White mozarella. I'll pretend I planned it, me and all my futzing.
A Thanksgiving for the books it was. Tom the Turkey Lurkey and all. I'm not sure my parents will have Thanksgiving hosting back anytime soon; Sil and I are already discussing future holidays and I'm sure we'll drag the rest of the crew into the kitchen with us. For some reason, I think Momma Debi and Dad-o are perfectly happy with the notion.
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