It's Thanksgiving, and I am FULL. Full of juicy turkey and a smorgasbord of other foods that have made the once-a-year gorge-yourself event a resounding success. As usual, we ate well at my Mom's, and in a first, I carved (OK, butchered) the bird:
And here are the two dishes I whipped up using recipes I discovered on my phone while roaming the aisles of a local Heinen's. After perusing more deviled egg recipes than I knew existed, I settled on this one: typical egg yolk, yellow mustard and mayonnaise filling, topped with crumbled bacon, sliced cherry tomatoes and fresh basil. They called it deviled egg a la BLT:
This here is Brussels sprouts, pan fried and then cooked with shallots in chicken broth, before being garnished with bacon:
And the full orchestra:
So yes, I am stuffed to the brim. But I didn't write this blog to share that I'm full of food.
I am full of gratitude. Six months ago, after the love of my life proposed to me, I came to the regretful realization that we likely would have to get married at a courthouse or conduct some other form of party-less wedding that is dramatically less than I would have liked for him and our friends and family (and me, I admit). I'm a firm believer that it's not just your spouse who should know, through the wedding, how much you love him/her. It's your guests, too. (I am so thankful that we have incredible people with whom we will share our big day.)
Today, I am a most fortunate woman. We will have a wedding that will be great fun, great tasting and greatly us because vendors see value in a) what I can do for them and b) bartering in general. They believe in my abilities, I believe in theirs and together, we win.
But, I couldn't do any of this without Steven. He told me early on that if I am writing to earn for us the wedding we can't wait to have, I won't do dishes anymore. I won't be responsible for wiping counters anymore. And, true to his word, I rarely do housework. In doing everything he's doing at home, my husband-to-be has affirmed for me that ours is a true partnership.
Which brings me to my last point: I am full of gratitude that I found this man and that he came to love me. He adores me despite knowing EVERYTHING about me: every sugar and spice thing, every brow-raising, is this girl cuckoo? thing. I know he's The One because I want to be a better person, a better woman, a better everything for him, not because he gripes at me or pressures me, but because I see every day how he vies to do the same by me.
This time next year, when perhaps the Brussels sprouts and the spruced up deviled eggs return, I will be his wife. There aren't words for how thankful I am for that.
I am full of gratitude. Six months ago, after the love of my life proposed to me, I came to the regretful realization that we likely would have to get married at a courthouse or conduct some other form of party-less wedding that is dramatically less than I would have liked for him and our friends and family (and me, I admit). I'm a firm believer that it's not just your spouse who should know, through the wedding, how much you love him/her. It's your guests, too. (I am so thankful that we have incredible people with whom we will share our big day.)
Today, I am a most fortunate woman. We will have a wedding that will be great fun, great tasting and greatly us because vendors see value in a) what I can do for them and b) bartering in general. They believe in my abilities, I believe in theirs and together, we win.
But, I couldn't do any of this without Steven. He told me early on that if I am writing to earn for us the wedding we can't wait to have, I won't do dishes anymore. I won't be responsible for wiping counters anymore. And, true to his word, I rarely do housework. In doing everything he's doing at home, my husband-to-be has affirmed for me that ours is a true partnership.
Which brings me to my last point: I am full of gratitude that I found this man and that he came to love me. He adores me despite knowing EVERYTHING about me: every sugar and spice thing, every brow-raising, is this girl cuckoo? thing. I know he's The One because I want to be a better person, a better woman, a better everything for him, not because he gripes at me or pressures me, but because I see every day how he vies to do the same by me.
This time next year, when perhaps the Brussels sprouts and the spruced up deviled eggs return, I will be his wife. There aren't words for how thankful I am for that.
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