THis is not one of those moments, rather the result of thinking about work tomorrow. I felt the need to share.
Thanksgiving has subsided. My father looks the same, which is to say unhealthy. It's a sad thing when I wonder how much longer he has to kive. However, it is a real concern giving his rotund stature. This is too depressing to think about. I'm not ready to deal with this.
I cook. And cooked and cooked and made butter. Now, I wasn't trying to make butter; I was trying to make whipped cream. I had the correct consistency but it wasn't sweet enough. So I put in more sugar and opened up the pies. I return to this ultra think mass that was about 2 seconds away from butter. But, damn is it good. Needs a bit more vanilla but if I whip it more... well.... even the most gluttonous people I know (except maybe moocowrich) wouldn't butter Pecan pie.
Electra ate as much turkey as I did, I think. THe little thief stole what I tried to give to the other cats.
I cooked stuffing - in and out side of the bird. Cauliflower mash with Gruyere cheese - my father loved it. Garlic Mashed Potaties...so good. Fox cooked the pasta that is unimpressive when reheated. :( sad, but still tastey. Finally, green bean casserole seved in fresh Sourdough Boules. yeah. I'm that fucking good. It was glorious. I won't need to food shop for the next two weeks. Lunch tomorrow will be sumptuous.
Right now... my belly what breaks with food. Muchly stuffed. Pie was sadly bad, insofar as pie is bad. The Pumpkin was mediocre and te Pecan too sweet. Next year, I"m just going to make my pwn damn pie. It's too easy not to.
I watch The Apprentice.
You can watch me watch it.