It’s a really low-key Thanksgiving here. My parents and brother are in town, and we’ll all just hanging out.
This morning, I sat down with a scrap piece of paper. “Help me out, Bill,” I said. I started listing the food I planned to serve tonight: turkey, steak, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole. He helped me remember all the dishes.
I then made two columns: prep time and cook time. Fine organizational skills at work, thankyouverymuch.
As I was making horizontal lines under every dish through the columns, my husband, watching the master at work, asked, “Are those lines straight?”
I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing. His smile was a bit too broad, too friendly.
“You will appreciate these lines come dinner time when I fill your belly with good food.”
It is never wise to tease the cook.
Sometimes that boy just lives dangerously.