Gong is asleep on the couch; Ma is drinking coffee in the kitchen. Goo is with the kids playing Pokemon cards. And I'm lying down upstairs, getting a second wind. Mama is . . . somewhere.
Because in about 10 minutes, it will be time to put dinner on the table! There are currently 5 dishes in one oven, two needing their last-minute toppings soon, and one in the convection, roasting their little sprout hearts out. The gravy is done; the cranberry sauce is done.
We're almost ready.
We run a pretty informal ship over here: no elaborate place settings or centerpieces, no linen tablecloth or napkins, no fine china or crystal. That's not a complaint; we're good that way--it's us. We do have a fancy turkey cranberry dish (thanks, Aunt Banana), a turkey platter (both with a and for the turkey), as well as turkey plates (okay, confession: I'm a vegetarian and I wonder about pictures of happy live turkeys on plates with hot dead turkey. At least it's a pretty Victorian-esque cranberry-colored transfer). But it's our everyday glasses and cutlery. And so much food there won't be space for any pinecone pilgrims!
And here we go. Dinner, a round of gratitudes (or not, I think those wounds might just be too tender right now), and lots of food.
Not a bad day.
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