Happy post-Thanksgiving hangover, Canuckistani peeps. If you’re anything like me, you’ve got turkey-induced haze, likely to last as long as the leftovers do.
- You’re Soaking In It.: Our dishwasher is broken. AGAIN. ::cries real tears:: And that means, we’ve been having to wash all our dishes BY HAND. Including — are you sitting down? — THE DISHES FROM THANKSGIVING DINNER. Now, I don’t know if getting older means we’re getting smarter, or we’re getting lazier, but we decided that because of the busted dishmasher, and to make getting dinner on the table easier, we would prepare a lot of dinner in advance. Veggies were chopped the night before. Mashed potatoes, dressing and sweet potatoes were cooked in advance and then heated up for dinner time. And we washed dishes AS WE WENT ALONG. So after dinner, there were far fewer dishes than normal. Our kitchen was clean within about a half-hour of finishing dinner. And honestly? That hasn’t happened to us since… well, EVER, really. Even when our dishwasher was WORKING.
- Wait, There’s Still PIE?: We made turkey dinner yesterday, and for three people, one of whom has eating issues and won’t touch turkey yet, and two of whom only ever eat white meat, a 5 kilo turkey? Is A LOT OF BIRD. But we ate, and we ate, and we ate some more, and Stinkerbelle made good work of lots of vegetables, and we were stunned into silence by the sheer volume of food ingested. And we have enough of everything to eat leftovers for dinner again tonight. But as we were packing everything away, we realized OMG WE HAVEN’T EVEN TOUCHED THE PIE. There was a lovely pumpkin pie, warm in the oven. On the off chance we might have some pie in the evening, we didn’t pack it away. Instead, BDH took some of That Girl’s magnetic letters off the fridge, and put the word “P I E” on the front of the oven, so we would not forget it was in there. And although the pie eventually got packed up, the letters are still on the oven door. I think it looks decorative, sort of like that fancy decal wall art everyone puts on their walls nowadays. Except ours is done by Fisher Price.
- I Dreamed I Was a Caveman and Col. Sanders Was There: So, to be thrifty, last night right after dinner, we chucked the turkey carcass in the crock pot. We thought we could make lots of stock, thus getting more meals out of one cheap old bird, AND by running the crock pot overnight we’d save money in our new time-of-use energy billing. Win/win, AMIRITE? Yes, we are very clever. EXCEPT. Food cooking in the crock pot overnight leads to food smells throughout the house. And this means, as the smell of cooking poultry (well, broth actually, but WHATEVER) permeates your home at, say, 4 AM, while you are lying in bed sleeping, do not be surprised if you have some VERY STRANGE DREAMS. Accompanied by waking and sitting up and somewhat dozily muttering “WAIT WTF IS THAT SMELL” before your conscious mind kicks in and it’s all OH YEAH and you go back to your tryptophan-induced coma. To be fair, this is better than the nachos-induced dream the night before in which a) I was at my inlaws’ dream-state house and I had to pee really badly but their bathrooms were all remodeled and I was concerned I could not fit my fat arse into the little cubby where the toilet was, and 2) I punched Howard Jones in the face. (Note: these two dream segments were unrelated. And also? I like Howard Jones.)
Also, reminder!! Tomorrow is Movie Night Discussion Day! And after the week of glorious fall weather we had, this movie was a PERFECT addition, so I am looking forward to the discussion!