The new Carnival of Education is up, and everyone needs to click on over there to catch up on the news. Remember, our children deserve only the best, and if we don’t keep up, how will we know what the best is?
It occurred to me suddenly that since I’m baking a turkey for the Biggest Family Reunion in the History of the Universe tomorrow night, maybe I ought to make some stuffing dressing to go with it.
It’s not ‘stuffing’ unless it’s stuffed inside the turkey. I don’t do that. I cut up several onions to put inside the bird and I bake dressing in a separate pan.
When I bake dressing.
The problem tonight was that I hadn’t planned to make dressing because I forgot about the dressing so I had to scrounge for the ingredients for dressing.
We had a lot of bread, and in this house, it’s usually stale. Check.
We had a lot of onions, because Hub loves onions and I hate onions so I buy a lot at a time for him and they last a while because I won’t eat them. I found a can of chicken broth so I used it. Nobody will know it’s not turkey, right?
There won’t be any celery in the dressing for two reasons: 1. I don’t have any, and 2. I hate it. It’s too much like snot held together with string.
There was sage in the pantry because I think I might have made dressing four or five years ago at Thanksgiving, but ever since that memorable day, my mom has made it at her house and brought it over. Hmm, omen? I hope sage doesn’t age. That would not be good.
Poem. Heh. Oh, even when I’m harried and everything in the house is falling apart or breaking and every knob I pull on in the kitchen falls off in my hand and of course the drawer that fell out is the junk drawer and I balanced it on a chair and the weight knocked the chair over and the junk was ALL OVER THE FLOOR and I’m still stepping on little tiny screws and twist-ties and when I was gathering all the stuff up I realized the hard way that there was a razor blade in there, who knew, and when the drawer hit the floor it broke apart and the hole in the cabinet where the drawer is supposed to be reveals all my mismatched and hideous fake Tupperware that I store underneath; ten thousand lids and forty thousand containers and nary a match among them. . . I can still write classical poetry.
Sage. Age. Would. Good. Drawer. Floor.
It’s in the oven now and it does smell good. Cross your fingers.
I’ll get up early and put the turkey in the oven. I enjoy baking a turkey, and when you’re feeding a big crowd, a turkey is the cheap and easy way to go an elegant and impressive thing to display. Very Rockwell-ian.
Next week is finals week and after that I’m going to sleep for a thousand years. Prince Charming, be ready.