Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Cindy, on the other hand, was constantly in the way yesterday. She is in season and nearly drove me nuts, incessantly bawling and complaining about the lack of male companionship. Just in case I might be ignoring her, she rose up to stick her head over the Dutch door while I was milking Sheila to yell in my face. "I get it. But I can't help you." That wasn't the answer she wanted, so she went around the corner of the barn and continued to whine. Thank goodness it's short-lived, twenty-four-hour condition.
The table in the round room is the staging area for supplies for Thanksgiving, piled high with yams, onions, loaves of bread, that bag of potatoes that sent me to two stores, and such canned goods as will be needed. Milk Guy wanted to know yesterday if I was planning to feed an army. Preparations in the house are moving along, but the real work will start tomorrow. I was talking with my friend Tinka and we agreed that, living alone as we do, cooking for family is a joy. I'm happy just thinking about it. I'd sure rather cook than dust!