Thanksgiving Eve

Any minute I should hear the thunder of turkeys warbling on my backporch as it is almost midnight on Thanksgiving Eve. I am on my my second dirty shirt and if I had started the day off smarter my second or third dirty martini. As it is I am caked in flour, butter, squash trimmings, and I noticed I had a bit of sage in my eyebrows that was a little dashing- almost avant garde- if you kinda squint your eyes just right. I am probably what Paula Deen looks like without a mob of people to keep her from looking the way I do right now. Worse still- the state of my kitchen is light years from clean- maybe light centuries.

On the up side, I am a pecan pie, a dozen and a half of apricot fried pies, one apple pie, some cranberry relish, a terrine full of dressing (we do cornbread in these parts), and five pounds of mashed potatoes all to the good. I have some squash too, but I don't much care for it. What are you gonna do? I should mention that there will only be seven of us tomorrow, but I am still hoping to run into some linebackers on the way to lunch. I am unaccustomed, and some would say unable, to cook for fewer than 20.

I have come to that time in my life where I have begun to cook the Thanksgiving Memorial Feast- Papaw's Pecan Pie, Mom's Dressing, Norman's Asparagus, ( I haven't gotten to that yet, but maybe the elves will cobble it together while I sleep.) Granny Pies, PawPaw's Fat Salad, and like I said squash.

The making of Granny Pies, these little pocket sized, heavenly apricot pies was the biggest challenge. I took the better part of two hours whomping out 19, and I called my 92 year-old grandmother twice during this almost forgotten tradition. For the record, I suck at it. My grandmother and my darlin's grandmother could whip out five dozen, fry a chicken, and probably iron in the time it took me to make these little gems. No doubt, theirs were better, too. However, they had 20 years of practice by the time they were my age.

So for now, I'll cut myself some slack and get back to that squash. It ain't gonna casserole itself.

Happy Thanksgiving, Y'all!