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| Buffleheads on their annual stopover |
Stuffing: gone
Wine jello: one serving
Turkey: enough for a sandwich
Pumpkin pie: stop calling my name damn it
Mashed potatoes: Ugh
Sweet potatoes: You will be turned into a fancy tart with an almond crust and coconut topping.
Turkey chili that was made yesterday and served for dinner: half gone.
Buffleheads are swimming back and forth by our boat dock. The cat is sleeping. The young people have gone to a movie. My mother is crocheting in her room. The oven is half-way through its cleaning cycle. A load of laundry is churning.
I refuse to clean the floors just yet. I may drink another Mexican coca-cola while sitting in my quiet house reveling in the sweetness of having my grown-up daughters here for the holiday, of time with friends, and time with the man who loves me. I always learn something new from him. This morning it was how to easily remove the seeds from a pomegranate.
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| That blur where his right arm should be is a swiftly wielded wooded spoon. A few deft whacks and the seeds fall into a bowl. We ate them mixed into a little leftover cranberry sauce for our breakfast dessert. |
