Throughout the past five months or so I have gone through some definite highs and lows. None as high nor as low as in the past 36 hours. I was told that there was a company ready to give me a job offer. Excuse me, career offer. Anyway, I then found out that there was a former employer that would not give the professional reference that they promised to give. I didn't even have to go through a divorce to get screwed by a lawyer.
Definitely one should realize that what goes up will eventually come down (due to resting on laurels). For every wonderful girl I meet there is a captivating schmuck with her. The holiday season can really strain the personal life. There is one way to know if a relationship is right for you. If you can actually say that a romantic relationship is not a financially sound endevour then there is a reason why your bookmarks are freshteens.com or momsontheprowl.com. (I don't know if those exist but wouldn't doubt it.)
So what will it be this winter? The fudge or love? Too much of either will cause your friends to mock you without mercy. My dilemma during the holidays is the food. I am a momma's boy no doubt. I love my mom's cooking. I eat other people's cooking but really prefer my mom's. I fear that although my words are complimentary, my facial expression is that of a person that swallowed Draino.
I wonder if the early settlers called there leftovers casseroles. The refridgeration process was definitely lacking and that alone makes me believe gravy was not an intentional turn of events. I wish I could have been there when the pilgrims and native americans were eating together. It would have been like the first time the in-laws meet. No one at the table wants to talk about the obviuos merging of cultures. Uncomfortable small talk about what they do fills the air. "So, Runs like a duck, do you just have something against pants?"
There is no way they could have even understood eachother. It's not like prior to getting on the Mayflower the pilgrims took Cheerokee as a second language classes. Who was there to teach the native americans to speak English? Oh, I forgot. Mr. Musket was the instructor.
I bet the idea of the children's table can be traced all the way back to the first Thanksgiving. If I was on a boat for weeks with some bratty fancy lads under ten I would build the table myself. Supposedly there was eel at the first Thanksgiving. That should anwer any questions to why of all cultures there is not a native american cuisine restraunt. Maybe if they deep fried that up it would go great with that tasty Austrailian dipping sauce for the bloomin' onion.