Bunny’s house

So here I am at Bunny’s house. It’s almost 10 p.m. and we have had a full-on Bunny day. First of all, by the time we get to Knoxville, Bunny is over getting ready for Thanksgiving. I don’t mean she’s done. I mean she’s over it. She’s been peeling apples all morning for the Waldorf salad, she’s made 48 deviled eggs, the rest of the casseroles are in the icebox but she’s reached her limit.

We head for a sports bar, where we can both eat lunch and smoke. Between bites of her club sandwich wrap, she’s on the phone with umpteen real estate people concerning a deal that is just a giant pain in the butt. We eat homemade potato chips. They are good.

Then we head to the Kroger for last-minute Thanksgiving supplies. What a mistake. There are people in there who haven’t been in a grocery store in five years and it shows. They wander aimlessly up and down the aisles, blocking everyone else from shopping. The Kroger has run out of chopped brocolli, pumpkin puree and Mrs. Smith’s pies. There are desperate people and it’s not a pretty sight.

We head back home to find Bunny’s sister, Brenda, and her husband installing a toilet. It is Bunny’s birthday present. It is a very high-end toilet. I think it is just a fine testiment to Bunny that she is getting a toilet right before Thanksgiving.

In the midst of all this chaos, Bunny makes spaghetti sauce for supper for nine. It’s too late at night for a recipe, but here’s her secret. She doesn’t drain the fat off the ground beef. It’s good. Then, we make green bean bundles. You will get the recipe for this after Thanksgiving when I get home. But now, it’s time for bed.  We have to get the dressing, turkey and gravy at Ramsey’s tomorrow. And we have to eat oysters on the half shell, another tradition. And then there’s Thanksgiving itself. I love this holiday above all else. And not the least because it’s at Bunny’s.

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