First things first: someone bought my rug on eBay! It's headed to Brooklyn, which is good. People in Brooklyn will understand the cookie monster rug.
Now that that's out of the way, how was your Thanksgiving?
My chef extraordinaire brother Dan spatchcocked our turkey. That involves removing the spine so the turkey lays flat and cooks more evenly. Norman Rockwell, it ain't. But it turned out perfectly.
All week, my mom talked about cooking for 8 people, since my French nana, my boyfriend Joe and my roommate Christine were all nice enough to join us for dinner. Eight people, sure. Mom set the table and we all sat down and Dad said the prayer. Then Nana looked across the table and said, "Who is that chair for?" Sure enough, we miscounted and there was an empty tablesetting for no one, right in the middle of the table. I'll pretend it's for the memory of dear, departed Hunter.
Everything was beyond delicious. But good gravy, why did I eat so much? It's a horrible feeling after you've cleaned your plate and polished off the last piece of turkey. I always forget that feeling. You can barely move, and yet a pie and a cheesecake await. Of course you will eat them. As an American, it's your civic duty.
There's everyday, normal "full, couldn't eat another thing," then there is "Thanksgiving full." It's off the charts. At least this only happens once a year.
I didn't shop on Friday. Not my scene. When shoppers are pepper-spraying one another to get an advantage on buying Xboxes, something is severely out of whack. What did I do? Took advantage of a freak 60 degree day and played tennis outside with Joe, which is free.
Check out the photos from our trip to Annapolis with Tiffany and Jon on Saturday. Even the boats are decked out for the holidays.
But wait, what's that?
There's a cat as first mate!
