As you might know from reading this here blog, Aunt Chrissy and I are not big fans of turkey. It's not that we object to it per se, but our last few Thanksgiving feasts have been somewhat marred by bad turkey experiences.
Last year we roasted two turkey breasts that were rather, um, how shall I say this?...game-y. They were either very very fresh and from some kind of full-flavored free range big fat bird, or they had been at the bottom of our friendly neighborhood grocer's storage bin for ages.
But not this year, I tell ya. Nope. No way. No how.
The Rich Sisters are happy to report that they feasted on a Honey Baked Boneless Turkey Breast and that it was, quite possibly, the very best turkey they had ever tasted. And the fact that it arrived in a spanky little domed storage container -- fully sliced and ready to go, was even better.
(Aunt Chrissy is convinced that the only reason I liked it so much was because it tasted like ham, but I'm not convinced it's the only reason. I think it tasted so good because all I had to do was pull it out of the Big Gyrl Ice Box and set it on the boo-fey.)
So today finds me back in the throes of the November/December schlump-a-dink with respects to my stitching. I had a mild panic attack yesterday when I realized that I had spent the better part of eleven hours trying to find something to play with up in the studio, but as I read some old posts of mine, I see that this is an annual thing.
I also see that I swore I would just ride it out and not moan about it, so I promise to give that a try for at least the next day or so before I send out the s.o.s.
Our outside Christmas decorations are up and sparkling in the post-autumnal light and both Chez Spinster and Chez Little Spinster look swell. We did my house a week ago and Aunt Chrissy's place on Friday, but some rather nasty rain today prevents me from capturing it all on film. But both look nice. Trust me.
I'm off to the Happy Chair armed with the determination to get through some of the crap I've put on the recording contraption, so wish me luck that something fun to stitch will fall into my lap. Stewey is toasting his little buns in front of the fireplace today, so it looks like I'm on my own as far as supervision is concerned.
Now where did I put those safety scissors?