March 24, 2008

I don’t cook. I used to. But I did the math. And it turns out, it’s financially favorable to have someone else prepare, serve, and clean up after me and/or Nick and/or (substitute guest/s).

Yesterday (Easter Sunday) was no exception.

I woke to the heavenly scent of a honey ham baking in my kitchen. At first, I thought I was at my mom’s house in Tennessee. Then I remembered Gar (who’s visiting with us this week) and Nick were playing the roles of chef, and host, respectively. Gar said he hadn’t had a good homecooked meal in a while, so he had a feast* planned - turkey AND ham, stuffing, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, cranberries, corn, crescent rolls, apple pie.

And all I had to do was just show up. And eat. And nothing else. How could anyone turn down an offer like that!

So cook they did. And eat I did. Until I couldn’t eat anymore. If you would’ve stuck a fork in me, I’d have popped like an overfull balloon and zigzagged through the sky.

Afterwards, we sat around the table. Fat. Dumb. Happy. Oh - and happily burping and farting. Yes, we are family.

Well, today, I was still feeling the effects all that food…

my pants were awfully tight!

That’ll be my last feast until Thanksgiving. Right-o!


(*I swiped pics from the web because although exceptionally and delightfully tasty, not photography-worthy.)

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