I smell wet wool.
It just dawned on me tonight that I'm not coming down sick, it's the same damn thing I've gone through every Fall. It's November Nose.
The bird is ever so slowly defrosting. He'll get flipped in the morning so the breast gets lots of juice until cooking time. Tomorrow I'll herb up the olives, defrost the cranberries and pumpkin to make pies on Tuesday. Our menu runs as follows:
Laying around the house:
homemade pickled herring and sour cream
chips n dip
the 21# bird
homemade cranberries sauce
baked sweet potatoes
mashed white potatoes
white trash green beans dish
more gravy. and stuffing.
cranberry, pumpkin and Strider's bringing apple, pies. and Reddi-Whip!
tea, coffee, milk, apple juice, V8 and whatever anyone else brings.
I think we're in excellent shape.
However, if they keep up with the barrage of Christmas adverts this may be the year I get sick of Yuletidiness. I remember each year my parents got sick of Christmas. My Dad went Grinchy when he was 70. My Mom gave up more than got tired of it, when she was 64 or 65. Just didn't want to be bothered with it because it caused too much physical pain. I understand that now, but didn't then. It was sad to go from a house decorated like Fezziwig's to a ceramic tree on the tv. I took up the decorating craze in their place and except for the year Ian died, have always had a tree at the least. Now that we've been back a year I'm pretty much situated to go decoration wild this year. We'll see how it goes. I can't get over the Hallmark channel going right to Christmas movies from Halloween on. Can't we relax and digest? Though this year Strider's going to help me put up the tree on Thanksgiving Friday. Long as that part's done I can get the rest out and up myself.
Well it's midnight and I'm ready to collect the Beest and curl up under my quilt. Stay warm, everyone.