Scenes from another Woodleigh Thanksgiving
My parents in a
rare moment of cooperation. My dad cannot cook, and is rather resentful of kitchen over-activity, but he is a carving--an artist. My mom, on the other hand, is a Bauman College-certified Natural Chef. See the way she tosses the purple cabbage! I must describe her signature dessert, the tiramisu (located at right). 'Tis dusted with hot-chocolate powder, contains a good glug of (un-evaporated) Kahlua coffee liquor, which enriches pillows of mascarpone-zabaglione. Makes tipsy munchers. The dishes sit atop our laminated astronomy and geography place-mats - gourd (good) feast-time reading.
A game of I Spy reveals my cello-wielding cousin Joyce, my yellow-apron'd mom, my dad rearranging chairs (his favorite activity). In the foreground, a glass of fizzy beer (not mine), and my dear Catherine in a turkey-induced slump.
I am thankful for these scenes, and all that goes on behind them. Thank you, God, for another day.