This is the longest week in history. Next week will be the shortest, and the the week after that will be cruel, because it will beat this weeks record for longest week ever. I'm skipping right past looking forward to next week, into dreading the week after that. There's something depressingly pessimistic about the mindset I'm in right now. It's a little crazy. Stupid menses.
So yeah! I'm making the Green Bean Casserole for Thanksgiving this year. Yeah, that's right. I'm the Green Bean Casserole Bringer. It's a title of reverance, because one year somebody (I'm not naming names... We'll call her Dant Aebby) made it using frozen green beans, and didn't cook it long enough to cook them. We ate raw green beans in a sea of mushroom soup that year, and none of us will ever forget it. Ever since that fateful year, Dant Aebbie brings the rolls. (Store-bought.) Everyone is happier. Especially those relatives too polite to not clean their plates. (Not I, I will happily zip past you and scrape into the garbage. If you can't be honest with your relatives, who can you be honest with? Although I'd probably fib on the exact reason. "Oh, guess I'm just not in a bean mood!" or something similar.)
Does your family engage in the "Who eats first?" dance?