I hope you had a good day and that you and your loved ones (family or not) enjoyed a day without stress (except for the standard turkey-roasting stress, that is). I had a great time, ate too much, and confined myself to only one kind of pie. I don't know what came over me. Only one kind of pie??? When there were three kinds to choose from??? Maybe I have a brain tumor.This morning I fired up the slicer and sliced up the onion bread loaves. One loaf went straight into the freezer for later and the other one went along to Shawano with me. I did, however, toast a couple of the end slices. Just to make sure it was safe for people to eat, you understand. I'm self-sacrificing like that.
It was misty when it was time to drive home so I took my time. The highway was well-salted so it wasn't slick, the streets in Shawano were another story, but I didn't go too fast and didn't try to take corners too fast. I was happy to see that almost everyone on the highway was taking it easy. Sometimes people show surprising common sense. Not too often, but sometimes.
Today's toss was the last bar stool. When we moved over here about 15 years ago Durwood insisted that I keep that last stool even though we don't have a bar or anyplace to put it. The stool lived in the basement with a piece of masking tape on the seat with "keep" written on it in Sharpie. I took the tape off and had to get out the Goof Off! to get the sticky off the plastic seat. One item/box per day.
Oh, and I borrowed the ebook, "The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning." It isn't about cleaning up after someone dies, it's about you clearing out your crap before you kick the bucket so that your children don't have to torch all of your junk. I'm determined to get rid of most of the clutter and stuff in here. It makes me feel crowded in.
22 November--Pieter Bruegel the Younger, Harvester's Lunch. Arthur always slept. Everyone else sat together eating cheese, bread, and fruit talking about politics or their children. Arthur found a patch of shade, put down his bag, leaned on it, and in three breaths he was asleep. When Gertrude asked him if he didn't get hungry in the afternoon he told her that he kept cheese rinds in his pouch that he'd let dissolve in his mouth. No wonder he had such bad breath.
All right, children, my eyelids keep slamming shut so I'm going to slap the photos on here, make sure I don't have any glaring typos, push "publish," and go to bed. Happy Turkey Sandwich Day tomorrow.
--Barbara
1 comment:
That bar stool is so cute. If you took it to Goodwill, someone is going to snap it up the minute it hits the showroom floor. Glad you had a nice Thanksgiving and a safe drive home. It's hard to envision the slick streets when it's in the eighties down here.
Post a Comment