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| My Mom... with her Mom, tasting the turkey. |
Inspired by the holiday, (but mostly by Maggie at magpiemusing.com) I dug up a cherished memory of Thanksgiving past...
In the beginning, there was toast. The smell wafted up to my bedroom on the morning of the day. The toast would lead to the stuffing and the turkey... and the long games of Scrabble while we watched it cook. My Mom cooked the stuffing INSIDE the bird. We ate it. We lived.
And my fondest memory? Sneaking back into the turkey the next morning, and spellunking for juicy bits of forgotten stuffing between the ribs.
In the beginning, there was toast. The smell wafted up to my bedroom on the morning of the day. The toast would lead to the stuffing and the turkey... and the long games of Scrabble while we watched it cook. My Mom cooked the stuffing INSIDE the bird. We ate it. We lived.
And my fondest memory? Sneaking back into the turkey the next morning, and spellunking for juicy bits of forgotten stuffing between the ribs.
