promised recap

I guess I can't sit on my duff any longer. I mean, I can. I most likely will. But I'll do it with the computer in my lap, and make myself focus before I lapse into another haze of sloth.

Thursday, we cooked and cleaned all day. That was the night I forgot to blog til past midnight, and that sure took the wind out of my sails. So boo on that.

Friday I had my schedule so well managed that I didn't even have to be in the shower until 9. I had tried to figure out how to make my oven racks stop sticking when I pulled them out, and Dad recommended spraying them with Pam or other oil. I suppose this should have set off an alarm bell in my head, but I trust my dad (ahem) and sprayed the shelves down before bed. I preheated the oven (for the roasted red onions) Friday morning while I got out the food processor, and soon enough the kitchen was filled with smoke and a bad oily burning smell. Right, cause the Pam oozed down the sides and pooled in the bottom of the oven and proceeded to smoke and burn. Dumb. I went into a minor panic and Austin the wise and calm recommended that I turn off the oven and clean it out. So I did. He's very smart.

So after that slight snag, I was off and running. THEN the damned apple pie crusts were WAY stickier than I had anticipated, and the Everyday Food recipe estimated 45 minutes prep to roll out the crusts, fit them into the pie pans, peel, core and slice about 15 apples into 1/8 inch slices, toss them with the other filling ingredients and fit the crust around the edges. Yeah right. So I was a little over a half-hour late getting the pies into the oven. And then one of them browned faster than the other, so I thought I'd remedy that by putting the pale one under the broiler for a few minutes. Which was evidently a few minutes too long. I ended up with one lovely golden pie and one black crusty that is still on my countertop and is probably going to end up being dog food (just kidding).

That was it for incidents. Megan and Ryan arrived at 12:30, and everything went beautifully for the rest of the day. The rest of the immediate family arrived early as well, and in the kitchen, we're just a well-oiled machine. Cranked away at everything, scarfed a peanut butter sandwich at 3, and had dinner out on the table somewhere around 6, which was the late end of the time I was aiming for. We ended up having 21 and one-third guests (one-third being Special Guest Star Elijah, the ice-breaker and equalizer) and, of course, more than enough food. We (brilliantly) made go-plates of all the leftovers, instead of trying to find room for tupperwares of each individual dish, so most people got some to take home and we still have a workable refrigerator.

So the house was clean and empty again by midnight, and I basically slipped into a coma of accomplishment and exhaustion. I think this must be the day I'm the most tired every year. I have been prepping for the Thanksgiving feast for weeks now and it kicked into pure adrenaline by the day of. I spent yesterday in a totally pointless shlub mode. Okay, and today too. I also haven't been able to force myself to eat a scrap of leftovers. I tricked Austin into going to Sitar for lunch yesterday, and cruised on movie popcorn and candy for the rest of the day (what?). Today we went to Broadway Brewhouse (and it was not good) to see Badness and RedBeard. Tonight I forced myself (read: Austin forced me) to reheat my leftover pasta from dinner on Wednesday. The idea of doing anything useful with those plates in the fridge makes me sort of weak and droopy. I've never been much of a leftovers person. Except tuna casserole, of course.

Now I'm stuck in the living room with Austin and Tim and Eric Awesome Show and I think I'd better get ready for bed. This is the area where our senses of humor do not coincide. Another example: Xavier the Renegade Angel that comes on before Tim and Eric. Seriously.

Tomorrow: report from The Mall.