I am exhausted, but only partly from the day's many preparations.
We had an intimate Thanksgiving this year with only one guest of honor and it was lovely. Perhaps there weren't as many colors on my plate as I might have wished (no brilliant orange, but since I am the only one who'd really enjoy yams it didn't really seem important to make them).
The turkey was incredible - moist and succulent - even, if I do say so myself. The whipped potatoes were creamy and heavenly, the gravy divine. The garlic-roasted asparagus was a disappointment, but how many sides can a woman expect to keep her eyes on? She is, after all, just one woman. The stuffing was tasty, although I missed my Grandma A (and her sausage dressing). The rolls? They were no trouble at all. I bought them. After all, who needs home-baked goods around to tempt them over the coming weekend? Not me. I know my limits. So, store-bought rolls it was.
The pies and fresh whipped cream filled in the corners nicely, and isn't that what dessert is for? This evening my sister and her family are coming over to chat and munch on crackers and cheese while we play card games, and isn't that what holidays are for?