The hours crawled by this afternoon at my temp job. Visions of stuffing and mashed potatoes made me groggy and sleepy. Luckily, I was able to skip out an hour early and headed home before taking my chances on NJ Transit for the dreaded bus ride to Scotch Plains, NJ. First, I had to make a stop at my bank because someone has been using my debit card to pay for their electric bill someplace in upstate New York. Note to criminals - if you are going to commit credit card fraud, do not use it to pay for something as easily traceable as an electric bill you dumb f**k! - but that's for another rant.
My contribution to the table this year is a homemade apple pie. Now usually I buy one from Little Pie Company (note there is no "the", so don't all be writing and trying to get up in my "bidniz"), namely the sour cream apple walnut pie - it's like buttah' - as my imaginary Jewish grandmother would say. I wasn't able to bake the night before because Magic Flute let out at 11:15 and I lost my cell phone - AGAIN! - somewhere in the Met and couldn't find it. And some genius has decided that the most convenient hours for a "lost and found" to be open is from 2 to 4 pm, Monday through Friday. Hello!?!?!? Who's free from 2 to 4 pm, Monday through Friday? Answer: actors and the unemployed, which makes no sense since neither can afford to go to the opera. Some dude at the Met is making a mint selling cell phones, glasses and single gloves on eBay. But I digress.
So I jammed all the ingredients I bought last night into an insulated bag and into my rolling back pack. I've recently upgraded to the rolling kind because I'm getting old and don't care about looking cool anymore carrying it by one strap over the shoulder. I'm sure in a decade or so some scientist will publish a report about all the lopsided adults in this country resulting from excessive use of backpacks over one shoulder during adolescence. All you cool kids, please start alternating shoulders or just wear them over both shoulders as they were meant to be.
Anyway, the bus ride was oddly uneventful and I hit absolutely no traffic. Once I got to Juan and Val's I started unpacking so that I could bake and go to bed and rest up for the gastronomic orgy to come tomorrow. Guess what this genius forgot to pack? The apples, of course. So I had to head out the A&P and buy friggin' apples. Fine. The grocery store was again weirdly empty. Has everyone decided to skip Thanksgiving this year? Although I would have bitched the whole time, I was sort of hoping to see a mob of crazy sweatsuit-clad housewives (and husbands, don't get all feminist on me) ripping each other's hair out for the last can of giblets. What are giblets, anyway? Tiny gibs? Well, disappointed at not having witnessed a pre-T'day food fight at the A&P, I drove back to Juan & Val's, baked my Paula Dean apple pie, and now on my way to bed. Can't wait to eat myself into a food coma and complain about it all day.
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