About rugrats, minivans, The South, photography, farmer's markets, puberty, Army, snotty noses, blankies, movies, hugs, autism, make believe, homeschooling, sibling rivalry, car seats, weather, in-laws, scribbles, marriage, and somewhere in there, a stoned British reporter.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

The deep breath before the plunge

Tomorrow, I am cooking my first big Thanksgiving feast. I cooked a Thanksgiving "dinner" way back when me and the hubby were newlyweds. I think frozen turkey slices and Stove Top were involved. Other than that, someone else has always done the cooking. This year, I am taking up the reins. Turkey, my grandmother's dressing, and two different pies will be involved.

Needless to say, I'm a tad nervous. Lucky for me, it will be just our little family, so if I royally screw up, it will be in private. I am really hoping it works out though. Ever since my grandmother died in 2002, Thanksgiving has just never felt right. I am not sure if I believe that people who have died can be with us. I will say a little prayer just in case, so if it's true then maybe she can be with me. Guiding my hands on what to do, to make things as perfect as she always did.

Maybe I need to call Miss Cleo, ha ha ha.

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