The Day After

I hate to say this for the risk of sounding bitter, but I am thankful that Thanksgiving is over. The food I fretted over making turned out fine, and in the end, I needn't have made half of it. In fact, one whole "ladie's" salad, as I like to call it, sits in the refrigerator crisper, unmade.

I was to make two salads, one special request being the age old "Seven-Layer" by my father, stacked fattily in my never before used Pampered Chef Truffle bowl, and then the "ladie's" salad, that I have refined over the years, including but not limited to: Blue cheese, strawberries, walnuts and red onion. I made the Seven Layer number the night before, as per the directions. The other was bought and bagged and waiting patiently until about five minutes prior to Turkey time, where it would be thrown together masterfully in my brother's kitchen in all it's crispy freshness. But there was no room for it on the table. Or the buffet. As I looked over the vast expanse of casserole this and casserole that, I began to question it's humble place among the mix, and even more so, it's necessity.

I whispered to my mother in an aside, "Do you really think we need another salad?". Her quick no left me hollering for my husband to run the ingredients back to the car, where it could refrigerate peacefully in the coolness of our Turkey Day November.

And judging by the huge amounts of leftovers distributed between 16 people, I believe it was a good call.

And when the feasting had ended, and the women began an efficient assembly line of dish washing and food packaging, and the men retreated to the living room, disaster ensued. Black gooey water began to seep out from beneath the sink. Husband's names were yelled and suddenly there was an odd role reversal. The women found themselves sitting in the living room, pouring another glass of wine, and settling in nervously. The men frantically began busting out tools and flashlights and taking off the dress shirts.

Eventually, as the minutes ticked by on the clock, I reminded my husband we had another Thanksgiving to get to, and I was holding the desserts hostage. Mid-project, we had to bolt. I still don't know how it ended, and judging by the looks of my sister-in-laws face, calling back later would not be appreciated.

We pulled into the MIL's at the perfect time, missing the dinner clean up and just in time for the coffee brewing. I whipped out my two desserts, one pumpkin pie and the other pumpkin cheesecake and hoped that they had not stuffed themselves to the point of no dessert. I questioned weather or not the cheesecake would have any takers, but in the end, should have reversed my concern.

In the land of pie-making, of which I am new, it is difficult to get a single pie crust. They came in "two's". Not wanting to waste it, I made two pumpkin pies instead of the one intended. Having an extra, we had previously made a quick stop to the police station to drop one off, so the cops on call would not feel unappreciated between domestic violence house calls and DUI's. Leaving me my precious "good one" for the MIL's.

And when I began the task of asking who wanted what, everyone wanted the cheesecake. EVERY one. As I sliced through the cheesecake time after time, I hearded myself pushing the pumpkin. "Sure you don't want a little slice of pumkpin, too?". But no. I am not all that great at sales.

So the cheesecake was devoured and the pumpkin sat. Sliced and ready but whole. Not a single slice missing. The MIL packaged it back up and sent it back home with me. And now it sits on the counter and I am wondering if we should take IT to the police station as well.

So in the end, I should have made the ONE salad and the ONE dessert. I will make a mental note for next year.

And today I need to hydrate beyond capacity and walk a million miles and nibble on lettuce leaves because tomorrow is the big wedding and the dress I spent WAY too much money on in is hanging in my closet and mocking me for yesterday's gluttoney. Stupid tight dress. What was I thinking?