We had a wonderful Thanksgiving here. As usual, there was way too much food for one meal. On a regular day, I cook to feed an army. But for Thanksgiving, I cook to feed an army and a navy. Maybe for a few Marines, too, for good measure.
There were 6 of us for dinner, and later on, 10 of us for dessert. The house was full of laughter and food.
I made pies on Wednesday. Pumpkin, apple, and lemon meringue were on the agenda. I knew it was going to take me longer than I'm used to, but seriously, it took me all day long. All day, to make five easy pies. I managed to get the pumpkin pies made while the kids were in school. I made the lemon meringue pies after the kids got home from school (my daughter made the lemon filling), and I made the apple pie after dinner (my daughter helped me peel the apples).
I try really hard not to get angry and frustrated with myself when it comes to my limitations, but on Wednesday, I couldn't help it. I kept telling myself to get moving; there was a lot to do. I wanted to make the stuffing Wednesday night and find my table linens, so basically all I had to do was stuff the turkey and peel potatoes on Thursday.
Well, by the time I finished all the pies and they were cool enough to put into the refrigerator, I had to play refrigerator Tetris to find room for them. Once I had them in the refrigerator, I was spent. All I wanted to do was go to bed. I chastised myself all the way up the stairs for not making the stuffing, or finding my linens.
So there I was Thursday morning, making the stuffing and looking for the linens I wanted to use. By the time I was finished, I had mostly forgiven myself for “slacking off” the day before. My daughter was really a big help on Thanksgiving. She made another apple pie (with very little supervision from me), she stuffed the turkey, she helped peel both kinds of potatoes, and she mashed both kinds of potatoes.
The cooking is going fairly smoothly, and even the end rush to get the food to the table isn't too bad. As I'm ladling the gravy into the gravy boat, my hand forgets it's attached to my arm. The hand drops the half-full gravy boat, landing into the pan of gravy, but not before boiling hot gravy splashes onto my hand. The good thing is that when the gravy boat fell into the pan of gravy, it didn't break. Double bonus because a) if it broke, it would have ruined the gravy, and b) I like that gravy boat. I got it years ago at a Noritake outlet in Indiana.
I was envisioning a trip the ER, the pain was so intense at first. I rinsed the gravy off with cold water, took some ibuprofen, and got an ice pack from the freezer. I ate dinner holding the ice pack.
The other good thing is that my injury exempted me from clean up duty.
By the time we were ready for dessert, my hand was basically fine; it wasn't even red anymore. Now, a few days later, it's totally fine. No hint of pink or red anywhere, and no sensitivity to temperature.
I am really lucky I wasn't burned; I know this. All I can think of is that it was divine intervention that I finished the night at home, with very little discomfort, and not in the ER.
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