This week?
Christ!
I'm even more disoriented by the emotional tilt-a-whirl than I thought.
I think we're making pies, and I need to make gravy.
The wife's aunt has a lot of weird food hang ups she imposes on guests at the table, one of which is the yearly vat of mashed potatoes you're supposed to eat plain.
EFF THAT.
I'll roast a few chickens this week and save the drippings.
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