Aunt Mary Lynn is thankful for the leftover spiced pecans that Richard made.
Her daughter-in-law is thankful for the leftover spiced pecans that I made. (I’m not the only one who likes them that way.)
We’re thankful that everybody had such a great time at our tables of sixteen.
And… having forgotten to set a tap dripping last night, I’m thankful we didn’t have to call a plumber away from his family on Thanksgiving and that we only had to wait an hour to have the pipes thaw so that we could take showers before going to said celebration.
It was already 32F again when we got home. The mango (which we left covered) is at a happy 51F and the kitchen tap got set to dripping in time.
Me, I’m crossing my fingers: I was getting the first of the leftovers that were sent home with us out of the back of the car and didn’t see in the dark that the lift gate hadn’t lifted all the way and hit my head hard. Someone in my inbox wanted me to decipher an easy knitting pattern for them and I told her I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait till morning. I wasn’t knocked out–I have been four other times in my life that I can think of right now–but I instantly just wanted to go to bed.
Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. My brain can still write. It just hits my worry spot is all.
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