It's the day after Thanksgiving and I'm still in recovery mode. Meaning, I feel fat. Emotionally, I am a-okay. It was a very pleasant afternoon spent with an ultra pleasant group.
Not that the day was without excitement. After the turkey finished roasting, the oven displayed some strange probe light and wouldn't stay warm. We all ran around like idiots, searching for manuals and model numbers, calling 1-800 help lines, Googling in excess, and saying "probe" over and over again. Nothing worked.
Then several sources suggested we turn off the power for a few minutes. So we turned off the power... and the cable and the internet. Before I could blink, Jon was on the phone trying to resolve these new (pressing?) issues while the rest of us debated and discussed what to do because the probe light was still glowing, taunting, and our side dishes were still cold.
Probe. Probe. Probe.
"Let's take all these side dishes to my neighbors' house," I suggested. "They are away. I have a key. They won't mind!"
So a few of us carried a small parade of foil covered casseroles next door only to have trouble with their oven. Seriously. So we plodded back home with our less enthusiastic parade of side dishes and decided to cook them on the grill. Desperate times. We hauled the sleepy Weber out of the garage where it's been hiding since the hurricane and fired it up all nice and smokey and hamburger-smelling.
Inside, Jon had now completed his call to the cable/internet company. Football games were once again blasting from every tv. Alleluia!
When we caught him up on our lasted scheme, he was very much against heating his beloved stuffing on the grill. "There are more keys for more neighbors!" I shouted, ready to lead another Pyrex procession when I realized a few guests were attempting to inform me of a positive development. The nasty probe light was gone. Just like that! And the oven was working. Just like that! We loaded it up with our travel-weary side dishes and the rest of the day was perfect.
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am writing about two cool things this week. No crazy.
Cool #1.
When your husband is overseas for the week leading up to Thanksgiving and you are the host everyone is counting on, it's time to delegate. My first cool item is help.
The yard crew came on Monday and a group of five men accomplished in twenty minutes what would have taken Jon hours and hours to tackle. They even edged the beds which classes up the place like nobody's business.
The best part? All those leaves leave. They load them in their truck and buh-bye. Around here, we are supposed to rake to the street and then the scary leaf eater comes by when it damn well feels like it and sucks up (most of) the messy pile.
As lame as the leaf eater may seem, in Baltimore, we had to rake and then bag. That was the worst. Making small mounds all over the yard, then stuffing those mounds into garbage bags. Leaves up your sleeves. So tedious.
The fabulous house cleaners came on Wednesday. I love them. They tie the ends of the toilet paper into little roses. It makes me happy beyond description.
Yeah for help!
Cool #2.
If you know me at all, you could conclude that the latest PBS/Ken Burns documentary is exactly what I live for.
The Dust Bowl is fantastic. Amazing. So sad, but cool because it puts everything into perspective. A broken oven on Thanksgiving. Not cool. (Literally and figuratively.) Losing your children to dust pneumonia. Total devastation. Watch it and try to empathize. Just try. The footage is mesmerizing, the interviews are heartbreaking. Watch it! Watch it!
(Unless you're like Jon, "king of the rom-com," who believes anything upsetting - fact or fiction - is a complete waste of time. Then I advise you to steer clear and blast more football.)
Not that the day was without excitement. After the turkey finished roasting, the oven displayed some strange probe light and wouldn't stay warm. We all ran around like idiots, searching for manuals and model numbers, calling 1-800 help lines, Googling in excess, and saying "probe" over and over again. Nothing worked.
Then several sources suggested we turn off the power for a few minutes. So we turned off the power... and the cable and the internet. Before I could blink, Jon was on the phone trying to resolve these new (pressing?) issues while the rest of us debated and discussed what to do because the probe light was still glowing, taunting, and our side dishes were still cold.
Probe. Probe. Probe.
"Let's take all these side dishes to my neighbors' house," I suggested. "They are away. I have a key. They won't mind!"
So a few of us carried a small parade of foil covered casseroles next door only to have trouble with their oven. Seriously. So we plodded back home with our less enthusiastic parade of side dishes and decided to cook them on the grill. Desperate times. We hauled the sleepy Weber out of the garage where it's been hiding since the hurricane and fired it up all nice and smokey and hamburger-smelling.
Inside, Jon had now completed his call to the cable/internet company. Football games were once again blasting from every tv. Alleluia!
When we caught him up on our lasted scheme, he was very much against heating his beloved stuffing on the grill. "There are more keys for more neighbors!" I shouted, ready to lead another Pyrex procession when I realized a few guests were attempting to inform me of a positive development. The nasty probe light was gone. Just like that! And the oven was working. Just like that! We loaded it up with our travel-weary side dishes and the rest of the day was perfect.
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am writing about two cool things this week. No crazy.
Cool #1.
When your husband is overseas for the week leading up to Thanksgiving and you are the host everyone is counting on, it's time to delegate. My first cool item is help.
The yard crew came on Monday and a group of five men accomplished in twenty minutes what would have taken Jon hours and hours to tackle. They even edged the beds which classes up the place like nobody's business.
The best part? All those leaves leave. They load them in their truck and buh-bye. Around here, we are supposed to rake to the street and then the scary leaf eater comes by when it damn well feels like it and sucks up (most of) the messy pile.
As lame as the leaf eater may seem, in Baltimore, we had to rake and then bag. That was the worst. Making small mounds all over the yard, then stuffing those mounds into garbage bags. Leaves up your sleeves. So tedious.
The fabulous house cleaners came on Wednesday. I love them. They tie the ends of the toilet paper into little roses. It makes me happy beyond description.
Yeah for help!
Cool #2.
If you know me at all, you could conclude that the latest PBS/Ken Burns documentary is exactly what I live for.
The Dust Bowl is fantastic. Amazing. So sad, but cool because it puts everything into perspective. A broken oven on Thanksgiving. Not cool. (Literally and figuratively.) Losing your children to dust pneumonia. Total devastation. Watch it and try to empathize. Just try. The footage is mesmerizing, the interviews are heartbreaking. Watch it! Watch it!
(Unless you're like Jon, "king of the rom-com," who believes anything upsetting - fact or fiction - is a complete waste of time. Then I advise you to steer clear and blast more football.)
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