Really! It was! Saturday my apartment was immaculate, my plants were watered, and I was preparing a picnic for 10 for a Hollywood Forever Cemetery screening of Dawn of the Dead. My kitchen was filled with the smells and sights of:
- prosciutto, melon and camembert-filled baguettes
- roasted vegetable and ricotta baguettes
- curried potato salad (which, btw, I amended by roasting the potatoes and adding raisins, yummy!)
- candied walnut and feta salad with blood orange vinaigrette
And I only burned myself twice! And only came to near-tears once!
And now? One paper due later and I’ve got a half-rusted baking sheet in my sink and there are fruit flies hovering which means that somewhere, some fruit or vegetable I can’t see is dying a slow, stinking death. AWESOME.
So, I surrender. I will never be Martha. Martha doesn’t cry. She certainly doesn’t allow fruit flies in her kitchen. I probably couldn’t even pull off Rachel Ray. Mostly because there is NOT ENOUGH COCAINE IN THE FREE WORLD to make me that perky.
It’s fine. I can accept that I’m no domestic goddess.
Until Thanksgiving, which I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT because I am making it this year! For my whole family! And Laurie and Amber! But I’m not going to get too ambitious. No. I can’t subject my family to my crazy machinations and self-induced stress implosions.
Now, where were those instructions for that grapevine chandelier I made a couple years ago?
I just hope at Thanksgiving my guests depart before the fruit flies arrive.
p.s. If you have any tried-and-true favorite T-giving recipes you want to tell me about, I would be ever so grateful! And so would my family!