Thanksgiving macarons (not a thing, now a thing)
I found this last year when I was home for Thanksgiving and posted it on my Instagram, spelling or grammar, sadly, has never been a skill of mine.
My family has a Thanksgiving tradition, mainly promoted by my mother, since I can’t remember how long. Everyone sitting at our table writes something they’re thankful for and then fold it up and put it in a basket. We then mix them up and everyone pulls out someone else’s gratitude and we all take turns reading them aloud, and the group guesses who’s it is. My mom has saved these notes in ziploc bags, and every year I glance at a couple of old ones, including (now) ex-girlfriends, out-of-state friends, and family members that have passed away. It’s a plastic bag full o’ thanks from appreciating good company to moving past cancer scares. The paper above, lives in one of these bags, a lot of the things still pertain to today.
However you spend this holiday, I hope you are able to take a moment to reflect. I hope that you are reminded that you are important. I hope that you know that you are important if you aren’t reminded… I don’t know really where I’m going with this one but I’ve been very emotional lately, so just let me do me. I’ve just burnt the teapot again, and need to figure out what to do with the ever-so-appropriate for thanksgiving French macaroons I over-baked, so I really must be going anyway.
I now use box mix only once a year, per request of my mother, to make cornbread croutons for Thanksgiving(I can explain more later)
Tyler and I adopted a hubbard squash when we went apple picking, back in September. I say adopted, because the thing is as big as a 1-year-old. Tyler was set on buying a big one, that squash he choose was even too big for the scale at the farm. I had never actually known what a hubbard squash really was until recently, but that’s beside the point. Usually used for decoration, the hubbard squash is a light greenish-bluish color that is speckled in the way that most squash are, and I think it’s very beautiful. Below is a picture of Tyler (right) compared next to an almost identical picture of his dad. I thought it was neat.
Now, when we got this squash, Tyler had big plans.. the thing is pretty huge after all. We opened our doors to any friends wanting to help out or keep us company whilst we processed this beast.
Cakes have gotten a bad rap. People equate virtue with turning down dessert. There is always one person at the table who holds up her hand when I serve the cake. No, really, I couldn’t she says, and then gives her flat stomach a conspiratorial little pat. Everyone who is pressing a fork into that first tender layer looks at the person who declined the plate, and they all think, That person is better than I am. That person has discipline. But that isn’t a person with discipline; that is a person who has completely lost touch with joy. A slice of cake never made anybody fat. You don’t eat the whole cake. You don’t eat a cake every day of your life. You take the cake when it is offered because the cake is delicious. You have a slice of cake and what it reminds you of is someplace that’s safe, uncomplicated, without stress. A cake is a party, a birthday, a wedding. A cake is what’s served on the happiest days of your life. This is a story of how my life was saved by cake, so, of course, if sides are to be taken, I will always take the side of cake. —
(via luciwithani : fyoured)
(Source: the-healing-nest, via creativeanchorage)
It’s gloomy outside. I’m making cookies.
I’m also wearing an apron with flowers on it. Because after all, it is Friday.