Thursday, Game Day of Thanksgiving: My day began at 7:30 a.m. As I write this, it is 11:30, and the kitchen is still piled high with food and dirty dishes. "Why did I start this silly series on Thanksgiving," I ask myself as I type when I should be cleaning.
We were missing some key players from the celebration this year but were thankful for the friends and family who shared this day with Hillcrest Cottage. Thanks so much because without you, all the work is meaningless.
Every Southern woman has at least one piece of silver which had been buried during the Civil War. This spoon is mine. It is worthless and flimsy but reminds me of the link I feel to my past when I pull out the china and special serving pieces... knowing that the women who passed them down to me, also had wild and crazy days filled with much work making holidays special for their loved ones.
And, some help did arrive at last. Jeff always carves the turkey for me. Last year he cut his hand; this year we were injury-free. And the sons pitched in to help with last minute vegetable dishes.
And we ate. And I cleaned. My kitchen was spotless. Then round two happened as the cousins arrived for their second meal of the day. It always happens that way...everyone talks about how full they are and soon we are filling our plates once again. Hence, the mess in the kitchen behind me as I type. The clock is ticking away and I am tired.
|The Cousins (Minus Military Cousin & Wife and New York Creative Cousin)|
"This one chick did it again," I say as I pat myself on the back, "It was a lot of work, but I live to tell the story."