And to top it off, blogger thinks this is written by a robot.
Some things are going on right now, but I am having a rather intense month and don’t quite have the perspective to write much about it.
So a quick synopsis:
My fellowship application should go out next week.
Some fun stuff happened on the psych ward.
My mother visited for Thanksgiving. The Marquee had his family come in and 'forgot' to bring them to my house for thanksgiving dinner, as we had planned and talked about for over six weeks. So there were four of us sitting around a twenty pound turkey, two containers of cornbread-sausage stuffing, six baked sweet potatoes, a meatloaf sized macaroni & cheese (with Dublin cheddar), a huge arugula salad, buttermilk mashed potatoes made from 5 pounds of potatoes, a gallon of frijoles negros, and over a quart of cranberry chutney.
I think I must have been pretty flustered by his no show, because I ended up ruining the gravy. Then, when I was finishing the pecan pumpkin pie under the broiler, I burnt it.
‘How burnt was it,’ my mom asked when I came back into the dining room.
‘When I took it out of the oven,’ I said, ‘it was on fire.’
Posted @ 5:20 AM
4 Comments:
11/29/2006
Anonymous writes:
Anonymous writes:
dan writes:
Anonymous writes:
Poor Erik...
I'm sorry The Marquee didn't show up & that you burned your pie. I hope the rest of your Thanksgiving was better though. Hell, If I'd been invited & lived anywhere near you, I would have been there in a flash! I hope the rest of your holidays are much better...
Mikey
11/29/2006
Oh, by the way, I can't wait to hear what happened on the psych ward!!!!!!
11/30/2006
"On Fire" is kind of the pinnacle and peak level of "burnt", so at least you knew that if you were going to do something, you had to do it to perfection. You burnt that pie to perfection, no doubt about it.
But gettin' stood up on Thanksgiving is even more impressive. Forgetting Thanksgiving dinner plans has got to be the pinnacle of asshattery, so the Marquee wins that round.
12/01/2006
I too was greeted with fire this Thanksgiving when I went to retrieve the canned yams topped with marshmallows, that my ex in-laws insist are delicious, from their “finishing” in the broiler. Quite disconcerting. I blew out the flames on my way to the back door, scraped the charred remains of the marshmallows into the grass, and served them up, diners none the wiser.
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