Sunday, November 27, 2011

Behold, the Jello


I know everyone is ten shades past Thanksgiving by now, and that's alright. Consider yourself free to leave the office early just because you're awesome if you don't care to read on. Take the night off. I understand.

True story: Back when I worked at ERAC we were having a particularly slow day in the dead of Winter. Overhead weighed heavy on the mind of my manager, Rick. (It's all about the numbers, baby.) So he held a raffle for one of us to go home early. I won. I hightailed it back to our apartment (aptly dubbed Stabbin' Cabins), made Rice-A-Roni and a can of corn, and fully believed that the day couldn't have been improved upon.

I'm a simple girl.

The End.


But back to our weekend: Our hearts were warm, our heads were hot (read: sweaty). The internets were malfunctioning, which was actually a welcomed surprise.

(On our last day in town, Dad spent a good 25 minutes chatting with some type of a Help Desk Woman on speaker phone. He famously starts every. single. phone conversation as follows, "Hello, this is Dwight Garber, from Pleasant Hill, Ohio." Homedaddy's got some fierce hometown pride. He offers lots of extra details, like "Our modem has just been sitting here on the bottom shelf of our bookshelf, behind a pile of books...." I left the room soon after, so I can't promise that he didn't proceed to list the titles of the books.)

I love my dad.

He's entertaining. And that's not even the half of it. He tapes key episodes of Antiques Road Show for me, like the one where the lady had a jade collection worth over a million dollars and reacted by eking out a flat, slightly ghetto "D**n". He tapes local news segments that involve random people from around town whom I may or may not actually know. He tapes America's Test Kitchen and swears he's going to make the recipes one day.

I love my dad. I keep trying to get him to write a guest post for me.

Yesterday was his 60th birthday, which used to sound old but eerily no longer does.


(left to right) Keisha, Dad, Claw, Shannan


Impromptu family photo (minus my SIL Shannon) on T-giving day at my Aunt Wendelin's house.



Speaking of Aunt Wendelin, she makes the meanest cranberry salad in the history of the world.

And by "meanest", I mean Best. Ever.

She gave me a little deli container full of it to bring home with me. I do believe I shall partake forthrightly.


My family reveres jello salads with much honor and counter-space.

Have you ever had carrot salad? You should.

But have you ever had my Grandpa's revolutionary celery salad?

You should(n't). (I'm still on the fence.)


We're settled back in, ready to launch a new week and Advent and December and a whole, new, triple-batch of good and glowy things.

There are big plans in the works to make Calvin a Turkey Potpie recipe he found in my Everyday Food magazine. He found it all on his own and has strategically left it open to that page at least six times since. He's relentless, that one.

I sure hope it lives up to the hype.


So, another Thanksgiving is in the books.

What was your highlight?