I’m a dedicated housewife! Or at least I sure felt like one last Thursday. I was slaving away in the kitchen at 7AM. Don’t think I’ll make a habit of that. And why was I doing that? It was thanksgiving! And Pete and Sabrina tend to celebrate that every year with colleagues, of which I have so far been lucky enough to be one. But the idea is that they provide the turkey, and everybody brings an accompanying dish. And I didn’t want to have to go home between work and Pete, so I made sure it was done before I got to the university. But that involved starting at 7, evidently…
I had chosen to produce a stilton-and-broccoli pie. And luckily, it was a success! And so was the rest of the celebration. Of course. The food was almost as good as the company. And many had chosen to bring desserts. There was chocolate cake, some merengue cake, pear-ginger-cardamom-caramel cake (ooh!), and at least four pumpkin pies. How can one not overeat? I went home feeling at least 9 months pregnant. And even the next morning I felt full. It’s perhaps a sign of the time that this is the way in which you celebrate having narrowly escaped starvation…
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