Boo hoo. Woe is me.


Thanksgiving was so dang fun. My family usually does a lot of brainy-type things during get-togethers. Lots of Scrabble, Boggle, jig-saw puzzles, etc. This year, we borrowed the church gymnasium and played a rousing game of baseball. I think that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Even little Calvin (a natural!) got into it, pitching a full inning. I may have actually made contact with the ball once or twice.

There was a little bit of illness passing through the ranks, though. Calvin was up the entire night before the feast, puking his little guts out. “That was the 15th time, Mom. *moan, moan, moan*” Derek contracted the Mother of All Colds, and was basically uninterested in gorging himself silly. I contracted the same, which culminated with me sleeping in until NOON (!) on Sunday, while Derek took the kids to Golden Nugget for breakfast, the dollar store for toys, Family Video for movies, and CVS for candy (don’t ask, they picked the places).

Because Derek missed Thanksgiving feasting, and because I’m such a good wife, I did the re-make yesterday. With the leftovers of turkey and mashed potatoes, and a new batch of cranberry-chestnut stuffing, I thought I had the bases covered. Then, at the last minute, I realized I had forgotten gravy! Since there’s no Thanksgiving without gravy, I had to improvise. I zipped over to the market and got some pre-made turkey broth, made a roux, added the broth, salt, and pepper, and tasted. It was bland, to say the least. I had even chosen the “local” broth that said it had all manner of veggies and herbs in there. Well, in my desperation, with no turkey remnants, carcasses, nor innards, I pulled out the dregs of the ham we’d had at Dad’s birthday party. I chopped up a few small pieces, complete with the slimy, fatty parts. Probably about 2 or 3 tablespoons of minced ham and fat made the gravy tolerable, if not slightly better than expected, with canned broth. It was like a faux giblet gravy. Fiblet gravy.