Turkey Time

Thanksgiving week was full! Here's the outline:

I. Sunnyside High School Turkey Trot--a fundraiser for the local Special Olympics team (Saturday, November 19th)

II. Baking, part one (Wednesday, November 23rd)

III. Our traditional homegrown turkey trot with friends (8am Thanksgiving morning, November 24th)

IV. Spatchcocking and Thanksgiving lunch at our house

V. Christmas movies

VI. Thanksgiving dinner at Grampa Dan's house

I. SHS Turkey Trot

We started off the turkey festivities with a tiny fundraiser turkey trot on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, organized by a student at Sunnyside High School. Jeff gave us the insider information on the race and we joined the few, the proud to run for glory, a turkey, and the Special Olympics. Jay won the turkey. They started off with a kids' one mile race, followed by a 5k for the rest of us. Jay and Rose were the only two kids who came, so Jay came in first place with his fastest one mile time ever--10:30! I ran the mile with Rose, and we could see Jay up ahead of us most of the time. We saw him stop to rest on a bench at one point, but he quickly got up and ran the rest of the way. I ran with Rose to encourage her and make sure she knew where to run, since the course wound confusingly all over the high school campus. It was so much fun running with Rose! It was the first time I have experienced that parental pride/joy of running more than a few feet with my kids. Rose was an impressive little trooper, only walking once during the entire mile. Her time was 11:56. Not too shabby for a five year old with a side stitch! 

The quiet, small, low-key atmosphere was PERFECT for our family--a great confidence booster for the kids. Jay declared that he wanted to be a runner when he got to high school. It was the first time he's ever really expressed interest in running. Jay was so pleased to win us a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. He talked about it all week, and on Thanksgiving, we let him take the first bite of turkey in honor of his victory. I love the idea of running for a turkey prize! Even though I was still fighting that sickness, I ran the 5k at this little turkey trot preview (Jeff was still not well enough to run at that point). My time was 24:16--a little off my A-game. I had a sickness relapse that afternoon--blah! I got beat out of the first prize turkey by a little whispy high school whipper-snapper runner, but Jay saved the day! He was so proud. It was awesome.

Jay could barely lift the turkey! He drank hot chocolate with Rose while I ran my race.

II. Baking, part one

I made the pumpkin cheesecake and peanut butter pie on Tuesday, but really dug in on Wednesday with the big bake-a-thon. My crowning achievement of the day was a pumpkin pie from scratch (aka, bake your own pumpkin--no Libby's). Everything else on my list was routine except the pumpkin pie. 

The pumpkin pie was just as dauntingly difficult as I expected. I'm no dessert baker in general, and I never would've taken it on, but a few weeks prior to Thanksgiving we had a Wednesday night activity at church where a man in our ward taught the youth how to make from-scratch pumpkin pie. I sat there the whole evening skeptically thinking that there was no way I would EVER work that hard for a boring ole pumpkin pie. In college, my housemates would stay on campus during Thanksgiving break and make homemade pumpkin pie to pass the time. They gave me the recipe, which I've kept all these years for the nostalgia but never attempted to make it. I was certain that I never would. Why go to all that trouble when you can buy pumpkin pie from Costco for $6--nearly less than the cost of the ingredients? I thought. At the end of the Wednesday night activity we ate that homemade pumpkin pie, and my mental block toward it completely disintegrated. I was SOLD--I have never even liked pumpkin pie beyond the obligatory traditional one piece per year, but this sweet creamy confection transcended both Libby's and Costco's abilities.

I dug out my roomies' old recipe, dusted it off, and baked a pumpkin. In the oven. It took an hour. I knew I was in it for the long haul at that point. But when I scooped out that soft bright orange baked pumpkin, it was smooth as butter. A quick finger lick told me that they call them "sugar pumpkins" for a reason. YUM! It was better than sweet potatoes! I blended that glowing soft mass into a bowl of glowing orange velvet. The rest is history--even the egg separating part went fine. The pie was delicious. In general, pumpkin cheesecake is still superior to even this pumpkin custard-ish pie. But it seemed extra traditional and extra American to make a REAL pumpkin pie from REAL pumpkins! 

After five hours in the kitchen, we had: 

one homemade pumpkin pie

one sour cream apple pie

one cookie pie

64 homemade rolls

two loaves of bread

one batch of cranberry sauce

and a couple of pictures...

I'm telling you, I'd put that pumpkin puree on toast it was so good. 

I get tired just looking at this picture--so much work for one measly pie!

Pumpkin and sour cream apple pies, all baked and cooling.

64 rolls, masterfully arranged, raised, and baked all on one giant oven-sized pan. 

III. Thanksgiving Day Traditional Turkey Trot 5k

We met a few brave church members at our friends' house in the countryside between Grandview and Prosser at 8am on Thanksgiving morning. We had close to 30 people show up this year--a new record! Jeff and I have always run a homegrown turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning (just the two of us), even before we got our friends involved, but it has been fun to share our tradition with fun friends and watch it grow over the past 6 years.

Our friends Chad and Ashleigh, who hosted the turkey trot, pulled out all the stops this year and presented the top three finishers with fuzzy turkey hat crowns. They went PERFECTLY with all of our traditional turkey trot philosophies. Jeff and I both ran our turkey trot a few seconds faster this year than we did last year. Jeff ran a 17:20 and I squeaked in below 23 at 22:58. These 30 year old legs still have some running left in them!

Adam and Eve victory picture, and another traditional picture with Ashleigh. My hat made me about two feet taller than her, so I crouched and she stretched and we alllmost met in the middle for the picture, hahaha. It is such a comfy good feeling to have friends who enjoy doing things like run in the frigid blasting wind on a holiday.

Top three finishers plus some of the "good wives" who ran, haha. After I finished running the 5k, I jogged back along the course to run with my friends. One cute little 6 year old girl was running with them and we ended up taking turns carrying her on our backs for the last half mile. That part made me SORE! Biceps are not my forte.

IV. Spatchcocking and Thanksgiving lunch 

Jeff discovered an untraditional way to cook a turkey online: spatchcocking. Basically you take out the spine and flatten the turkey butterfly style so it cooks faster. It cooks MUCH faster--half the time, in fact! We had everything timed so we could eat Thanksgiving lunch at our house and then have dinner with the White extended family at their house. So when we got home from the turkey trot, I preheated the oven and took a shower. Jeff performed the spine carving and slightly sickening bone-crunching necessary to splay the turkey out on the pan, then we rubbed it with butter and stuck it into the 450 degree oven. Jeff and I worked on prepping the potatoes and the green bean casserole while the turkey was in the oven. After an hour, I peeked into the oven and the bird looked exactly the same as it did when we first put it in. My first thought was "well, I guess this baking technique isn't working after all," but then I noticed that the oven wasn't even hot! Somehow when we set the timer, the oven got turned OFF. That threw off our turkey lunch at noon plan, but I cranked the oven back on and we sat down to eat by 1:15pm. 

I've mentioned my inability to make side dishes, right? They take forever and it's like making four meals for one, and it seems like too much work. But Thanksgiving is about a feast, so I short-cut with a boring Campbell's goopy green bean casserole. That allegedly failproof recipe failed spectacularly. My green bean casserole was disgusting. I dumped it out and we had turkey, cranberry sauce, gravy, mashed potatoes, and rolls for our Thanksgiving lunch. 

It was unexpectedly gory when Jeff was hacking out the spinal column. I had second thoughts about eating meat ever again while watching that part. Poor turkey! We meat eaters are such savages!

Meanwhile, the girls enjoyed jumping in the wind with sheets as parachutes.

All brown and done--the turkey was quite juicy, in spite of the open uncovered cooking position.

[Jay, six years ago]

Feasting at home together.

V. Christmas Movie: Home Alone

Tradition requires us to watch a Christmas movie after eating a Thanksgiving meal, and the kids unanimously chose Home Alone for the first Christmas movie of the season. I had the best time lurking with the camera, watching their faces while they watched Kevin's silly escapades.

"Don't steal that toothbrush, Kevin!" Jay and Rose both covered their faces when Kevin accidentally ran out of the store with a toothbrush.

Goofy robbers getting beat up by an 8 year old inspires laughter like none other. 

VI. Thanksgiving dinner with the Whites (5pm)
Dinner with the Whites was a much bigger spread than our little lunch. They come from solid New England/Mayflower stock, so they do Thanksgiving in a splendid, sumptuous, dozen-side-dishes style. I brought the camera but was so awed by the laden table that I forgot to take a picture.

We had a 90 minute power outage on Thanksgiving night. I read the kids' bedtime story by flashlight (we finished Little House in the Big Woods) and then Jeff and I played cards by candlelight till the power came back on. It was fun! I want to use candlelight more often--it's such a cozy ambience.

Happy Thanksgiving! My top three thankfuls this year are my health, the gospel, and my PEOPLE: family and friends, near and far. That means YOU too. Cheers!

The apple juice incident

Apple juice is my life blood. Juice, cider, or three-apple blend--mmmmm. Fresh, bottled, or concentrate--I love it all. It's literally the only food that I liked from the beginning to the end of my sickly Amber-pregnancy. Even more surprising than that is the fact that I still love it now. When I was sick last week, I sipped apple juice and again it sustained me.

Yesterday Jeff stayed home sick from church. Since we'd be gone for less than four hours, I asked him nicely if he would keep Amber home with him so I could actually BE at church. I made sure to tell him that if he thought he was too sick to take care of Amber, I would take her with me and the big kids. But Jeff agreed to watch Amber, and since I had just experienced the same sickness, I knew he wasn't too ill to care for her while we were gone. So the rest of us went to church and got home 3.75 hours later. When I walked in the door after church, one of the first things I noticed through Amber's cheery repeated "hi, Mommy!" greeting was a juicy smell drifting around the house. An apple juicy smell. I walked upstairs and the smell grew stronger. I hugged Amber and the smell grew stronger still. Jeff hailed me from the recliner with "I have a story for you."

"Does it have to do with apple juice?" I asked quickly. 

"While I was taking a nap in the basement," Jeff began, "Amber came walking down holding a full cup of apple juice saying 'help, Daddy, help, Daddy!' When I went upstairs, I discovered that she had dumped most of the bottle of apple juice all over the kitchen floor while trying to pour herself a cup to drink. I mopped it up as best I could," Jeff finished weakly from his chair. 

PAUSE the story right here for a brief background check:

I had been sick for the previous three days, and was still exhausted from the ordeal. The first day I woke up feeling relatively healthy, my period started. TMI, I know, but it was a FACTOR. I had not consumed even half of my daily calorie needs in well over 48 hours. Post sickness exhaustion + gnawing hunger + menstrual discomforts and hormonal-ness = an emotional Mount Everest for me to climb. There were going to be casualties. 

PLAY the apple juice story again:

"I mopped it up as best I could," Jeff finished weakly from his chair. My irritation had flared at the first line of Jeff's story, when he said "while I was taking a nap in the basement." Taking a nap while a 2 year old is loose in the house is like falling asleep at the wheel. In this case, it was more like falling asleep at the helm of a ship! He woke up drowning in apple juice. When Jeff ended his tale of woe, my eyes darted over to the kitchen floor. It was shiny with dried apple juice--a lake of sticky tiles. I moaned and without thinking said "Ughhh, the kitchen floor looks awful! Ahhh! I should've just brought Amber to church with me." Having expelled some venomous wrath verbally, I underscored my irritation by stomping off to my bedroom to change out of my church clothes. I'm pretty sure at some point in my life, people have referred to me as sweet and kind. Insert wicked bitter cackle. Not this time! My red hair flamed behind me.

While I was in my room, I fueled my indignation with thoughts like these: "Toddler care 101: DON'T take a NAP and leave the 2 year old unattended! What was he thinking?" and "I had to take care of Amber while I was sick for TWO whole days while Jeff was at work! The least he could do was watch her while I went to church! Or actually clean UP the mess all the way! But instead, I come home to an enormous mess! ARG!" and the question of the universe, "Why are men so impossible when they're sick?"

My bucket of anger full to the brim, I decided not to change my clothes after all and stomped back down the hall to the kitchen. Jeff, with his jaw set, was holding the mop for a second attempt on the sticky floor. I was boiling inside, but the fragment of my brain that was not on fire told me that I should mop, not sick Jeff. Those angry flames were still dancing at the edge of my vision though, so instead of calmly sending Jeff back to his sickbed, I growled "I'll do it" and tried to grab the mop from Jeff's hands. But he would not let go of the mop. He actually would not give it to me. That ever-shrinking calm sliver of my brain warned me to get out of there before I exploded again. So I stomped back to my room and locked the door, seething. 

In my room this time, amidst my fuming, I also remembered the blazing look on Jeff's face when I tried to take the mop. Then the force of my own words started to hit me. I replayed what I had said back in my mind and horror at my own insensitivity effectively doused out the flames of anger, leaving me feeling flat, pathetic, and hollow. "What was I thinking??" I moaned to myself. "Poor Jeff! That was such a RUDE ungrateful thing for me to say! Yes, he dropped the ball leaving Amber alone, and yes, I am better at taking care of a toddler while I'm sick, but still. I was mean. He's sick. I think he's actually really mad right now! What was I THINKING?" I stayed in my room wringing my hands and wondering at my burst of senseless anger until I heard Jeff leave the kitchen. Then I crept back out and ate my lunch. Jeff had retreated to the basement. 

When I was finished with lunch, I gathered my shredded patience, swallowed my pride, and went down to face Jeff. I apologized for my rude words, but I could tell he was still stinging, so I left again and came back a little while later to talk it out. I explained all of the physical and emotional blockades I was facing that led up to my outburst--not to excuse my behavior, but to help him see that it wasn't your average everyday Shaina dealing with the issue. Jeff said it took everything in him not to return fire in the moment, but when the moment passed, he got over it quickly. I marveled at his ability to bite his tongue and sort of moaned at my own failure to do the same. Jeff very graciously accepted my apology. I vowed to work on taming my tendency to excoriate in the future. 

FAST FORWARD: the next day [Monday]

I mopped the kitchen floor today, and I must have grown at least a little as a human being and as a wife after yesterday, because I did not even have one uncharitable thought while I mopped. I do not mop regularly, and when I do, uncharitable thoughts flow freely. For this reason, among others, mopping is not even on my monthly chore radar. It's more of a spring cleaning once-a-year type of chore in my kitchen right now. That probably reveals a little too much about my brand of housekeeping, but how else could I manage to write long blog posts AND do all the laundry? Something has to give, and it's mopping. And other little things like recipe instructions to "beat in eggs, one at a time." Not happening! In they all go together! Don't worry, I do vacuum more than once a year. Much more, in fact, though rather irregularly.

Anyways, Jeff's second sickly floor mop still left patches of sticky juice on the floor, so I got a bucket of sudsy water and really mopped today. After each row of tiles was mopped, I scrubbed it with a wet rag for good measure because sticky stains are stubborn and I was NOT going to do the dread mopping chore twice in one week. It worked. All the sticky is gone. And my rage is gone with it.

Insert the psst sound of a candle flame being pinched by wet fingers. Or the hissing, spitting sound of a bucket of water being dumped onto a campfire. 

I hope this post wasn't too _____. Personal? Graphic? Awkward? Trivial? I always wonder that when I write blog posts. Is this too _____ to post online? I know I've never read anything quite like it online. Does that make it taboo? The story written here was a journey I had recently, and it felt worth sharing. Jeff and I don't normally actually get mad at each other, so this experience made me think. Patience, charity, and forgiveness make marriage work. Thank goodness my husband has enough reserves to cover my failings! I love him for it.

 The Amber-monkey can reach almost anything she sees these days.

One more story for the road:

When Jeff and I were backpacking around Europe 8.5 years ago, we uncovered a hotspot in our relationship: hunger. One evening in the wilds of Greece near the Albanian border, we found ourselves in a tiny town without restaurants. It was dinner time and we were tired and hungry. Darkness was falling, it was getting colder, and we were getting hungrier by the minute. Our increasingly desperate exploration finally led us to a small store with about two isles of food in it. Since our lodgings did not have a kitchen, our dinner options were slim pickings. Jeff was all for continuing our search for a restaurant with some meat, but I had low hopes of finding one before we perished from hunger, so I insisted on buying milk and cereal for dinner from the small store we were standing in. We were both being completely stubborn and communicating very badly--not loudly, just badly. Our minds were not meeting and we were not compromising. It was survival mode Jeff vs. survival mode Shaina, and it was going nowhere. I remember eventually stomping my foot in frustration and bursting into tears right there in the store, buying the milk and cereal anyways, and practically force-feeding it to Jeff. When we had consumed probably an entire box of cereal for dinner, we both looked at each other and said "wow." Then we laughed at our folly. We have taken care to avoid both being overtired and hungry at the same time ever since. We've done a great job, but the sickness factor dulled our wits and fogged our perception of the situation on Sunday, creating the perfect storm.  

The result was another exercise in communication. If you hangry, don't say nothin' at all. Especially if there are ANY other negative factors contributing to the situation, like sickness, hormones, blood, loud children, or lakes of apple juice.

Bready

When I was little, my mom made bread a lot. My siblings and I took it for granted and always begged for airy store-bought Wonder bread for our sandwiches instead of the wholesome slabs of homemade wheat Mom made us. One year I even got a loaf of Wonder bread for my birthday since it was so special to me! My, how time has turned my taste buds. These days I practically live off of homemade bread. I do make my kids sandwiches on store bought bread, though, mostly because it's too much work to make enough bread for all of our needs.

Ever since my Amber-pregnancy-of-agony, I have not liked anything for breakfast but TOAST. And not just any ole charred bread, HOMEMADE bread, toasted to perfection and topped with either apricot jam, apple butter, or strawberry freezer jam. All homemade. Sensitive/picky/traumatized all meld together when we're talking about the Shaina-stomach before noon. Mornings are tricky, and my system is so joyfully sensitive that if I don't have my homemade toast with homemade toppings and a mug of juice, my whole day is thrown off. One morning I had a few bites of a cinnamon roll along with my toast, and I felt horrible all the way till lunch!

Speaking of feeling horrible, today I was/am sick with a medium-strength digestive thing that made me nauseous. This morning I felt awful. I made my usual breakfast, half-size, then sat there, staring at my toast and juice, trying to fend off horrible pregnancy PTSD. I've been sick a few times since my awful Amber pregnancy, but the fear/agony/hopelessness/terrible memories still haunt me every time I get queasy. I never ate the toast this morning. I ended up waiting till noon before braving solid foods. But all of this is a rumbling, rambling preamble for recipe-sharing time.

Back to the topic of BREAD: bread is the life of my kitchen. Most foods are better with bread. Before Jay was born, I asked my mom for a bread making lesson. I wanted to be able to make her good homey aromatic bread for myself! So she taught me, step by step, from her mom's classic recipe. I'm not sure where Grama got the recipe for this bread, but it is The Best. No question. Over the past 8 years, I have gotten pretty good at making it. I love making fresh hot bread and giving it to family and friends. For one thing, it's something that most people don't usually make very often, so it's special. I also happen to be very bad at non-bread baking, so bread is just about all I've got to offer. And nothing says love and friendship like a fresh hot loaf of bread! I even wrapped a hot loaf in tissue paper and put a bow on it for a friend's birthday gift a few years ago.

Friends have asked for this bread recipe over and over, so I wrote it up for our ward cookbook a while back. When people ask me for the recipe, I usually text them a picture of the recipe as it appears in the ward cookbook. But the format of the cookbook was not very user-friendly and it bugged me that the recipe was limited by space and page size. The most recent request for the bread recipe came from the sister missionaries, who feasted on fresh bread and soup at our house one night last week. So today I finally typed up the recipe with hopefully helpful details into a convenient, share-able Google Doc. (click the recipe title below to go to the Google Doc page)

Recycled bread photo from years past: check

I briefly considered doing a bread making post with step-by-step pictures, but this is so not a cooking blog, so the text with a few helpful tips is all I've got. I make a double batch of this bread at least once each week and freeze the extra loaves.

Everyday Bread

A beloved recipe from my mom and grandma. We live off of it!

2 cups warm water

⅓ cup sugar

2.5 teaspoons yeast

1.5 teaspoons salt

⅓ cup shortening or unflavored coconut oil

5 cups flour

1. Put all ingredients into the bowl of a Kitchen Aid mixer.
   *for wheat bread, I use half wheat flour and half white--the more wheat you use, the drier and denser the bread will be and the longer it will take to rise. If you do use all wheat, use a full tablespoon of yeast.
2. Attach the dough hook and mix on medium speed till the dough comes together. Add flour one tablespoon at a time if the dough is too sticky.
   **if you don’t have a standing mixer, just mix the ingredients together by hand with a spoon till the dough comes together.
3. Once the dough comes together, mix/knead with the dough hook for 2-3 more minutes till it’s a nice soft ball. It shouldn’t be sticky enough to coat your hands, but you don’t want it too dry either--think a little moister than playdough.
   **if you don’t have that magical mixer, dump the dough out and knead it by hand for 3-5 minutes till it’s a soft springy ball. That’s how my grandma made this exact recipe, so it is totally possible!
4. Cover with a cloth and let rise till doubled, about 45 minutes
5. Punch the dough down, cover, and let rise for another 45 minutes till it doubles again.
6. Divide the dough into two halves.
7. Flatten each ball of dough into a small rectangle (this pops air bubbles) and roll it into a log starting with the long side of the rectangle.
8. Pinch the seams so they stay closed.
9. Place the two loaves into greased/sprayed loaf pans and let rise till doubled, about 45 minutes. *I usually preheat the oven at this point so it’s hot when the loaves are ready.
10. Uncover the puffy loaves and bake at 350 for 30 minutes.
11. Remove loaves from pans immediately and cool.
12. It’s usually is best to wait at least 10 minutes before cutting the fresh hot bread, but sometimes you just can’t wait :)

NEXT UP: ROLLS

Since it's November, I have to share my other favorite bread-y recipe: rolls. We have had these every single Thanksgiving as far back as I can remember, and they are another simple, awesome recipe from my mom via her mom. So many memories with these beauties!

Our Favorite Thanksgiving Rolls

A yummy basic from my classy clever mother, who got it from her mother--Shaina White

1. In a bowl, mix together:
• 2 cups water
• ⅓ cup sugar
• 4.5 tsp yeast (equals 1 T plus 1.5 tsp, or two pouches of yeast)
• 2 tsp salt
• 3 cups flour
• 2 eggs
• ⅓ cup shortening or unflavored coconut oil
2. Beat it for 3 minutes with a whisk attachment in the standing mixer or beat by hand.
3. Then, add:
• 3 more cups flour
4. Use the dough hook to knead the dough till a soft ball forms. Or knead it with your hands. The dough should be sticky but not unmanageable--add flour if it’s too sticky.
5. Cover and let it sit/rise for 20-30 minutes.
6. Divide the dough into 4-6 pieces, or take about ¼ to ⅙ of it at a time.
7. Sprinkle flour onto the counter, roll the piece of dough into a circle,
   and cut it like a pizza into triangles using a pizza cutter or a butter knife. -------->    
8. Roll each triangle from the base to the pointy tip to make a crescent -------------->   and place on a greased/sprayed pan. You can make these as small or as big as you want--mine are always very unevenly sized, haha.
9. Repeat with remaining dough, then cover the rolls on the pan and let them rise for at least 30 minutes (an hour is best), till they’re puffy. (preheat oven to 350 while rolls rise)
10. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes.

Notes:

• A half batch of this dough makes a nice 9x13 inch pan of cinnamon rolls.
• For cinnamon rolls: roll half of this recipe dough into a rectangle, pour half a stick of melted butter on it, and sprinkle 1.5 cups of brown sugar on top. Shake cinnamon all over the top of the sugar, and carefully roll the rectangle up along the long side to make a long log. If it’s uneven, gently stretch the log till it’s all the same size. Cut into 12-ish pieces and place in a glass 9x13 pan. Cover and let rise for 45-ish minutes till puffy. Bake at 350 for 25 minutes.
• Cinnamon rolls can be tricky--the ratio of sugar to butter and the thickness of the rolls when you cut them AND how puffy they get (how close they are together in the pan after rising) all affect the baking time. If the cinnamon rolls are really crowded in the pan, they may need a few more minutes of baking time. If they are not even touching each other, beware--the sugar and butter may all leak out to the bottom of the pan.
• I am NO EXPERT at cinnamon rolls--I’m about 50/50 with successes and failures. This is just the basic recipe. {last time I made these, the cinnamon rolls were so packed in the pan after rising that the center of one of the rolls actually popped OUT of the pan and landed in the bottom of the oven, creating a juicy smoky puddle of burnt sugar to surprise me the next four times I turned on the oven before I finally cleaned it out.}

These are two of my most useful, tasty, home-y recipes. Love them. Now for some pictures of Amber two weeks ago when we were playing in the backyard.

 All of those beautiful leaves have fallen and turned brown by now, but boy were they gorgeous for a few days!

Hopefully this stomach bug clears up soon so we can get bread-y for Thanksgiving!