Do we like the new design? I can't decide. I hate being limited by web colors only. But I wouldn't want troubles, so I bow. Of course, being that I stole the idea from gnoyle, he/she ought to be recognized, especially since he/she may or may not be Abby's friend.
ANYway, I am happy to report that I arrived home (45 minutes late, like thanks for nothing America West Airlines, also known as the worst airline ever still civilized enough to assign seats) with canned goods, as in the bottled kind that old school farmers and people with forethought used to make. Applesauce and peaches. I ate the peaches at 11:30 last night and they were quite fabulous. I even drank the juice, feeling a little guilty and a little uncivilized, but it's sort of like nectar, you know?
The best thing about this story is that my sister is the one who canned them. It makes me so proud, in a "aw, aren't you such a good homemaker" kind of way. I'm not a terrific homemaker, though both she and I might consider it a dubious honor anyway. I'm a bit of a snobbish homemaker, to be honest. When my scheduled arrival at Thanksgiving was for approximately 1.5 hours before dinner, I was both relieved and perplexed that my influence would not be felt, even knowing that last year my arguably overengineered dinner caused, among other things, barfing in my bedroom trash can, a small fire of butter and grease in the oven, and serious nervousness over cornbread stuffing. But I watch the Food Network. I wanted to mix it up; my family wanted grandma's stuffing. Of course they said it was good - and it was - but I am quite certain that this year nobody was dreaming about the beets roasted in sea salt when we sat around Grandma Muelleck's table.
It was like we always remember it: turkey that tastes of nothing but turkey, plain Idaho russet mashed potatoes, sliced sweet potatoes with apples, german red cabbage like only she can make it, and even Jell-O with fruit and Cool Whip, never a choice I'd make, but then sometimes eating it for comfort value alone is worth it. It was old school and pretty perfect, frankly, and I remembered that traditions - however simple or not-Martha or unchanged since 1982 - lend a whole lot of peace to my otherwise fairly frantic and perfectionist insides. I love Thanksgiving. Thanks for cooking, Grandma.
