The After-Turkey Toil
Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I hope the day brought you warmth, laughter, and tangible reminders of the beauty in your life. (And if not, here's a hug from my heart to yours.) Our day was full of exquisite cuisine--special shout out to my Dude for making a grilled BBQ turkey breast that made my mother slap me!--and new memories with old friends and family. It was a miracle, a literal answer to prayer, and I was so blessed to see it happen under our roof. But after everyone left, I was alone with the kitchen (point of fact: my Dude was taking people home; otherwise he would have been there with me.) You can imagine how it looked: slightly crumpled foil pans, half-full cups of juice, huge pots that wouldn't fit in the refrigerator, and a white kitchen floor tattooed with food and footprints. As I formed a plan of attack, I remembered those FB posts and Instagram pics of proud chefs with their culinary creations and wondered how many people are just as excited to fa