Burppp!

Even without seconds, too much food, or just too rich. My wife and I feasted on roast goose with my parents at the family farm in Maine. Father's now 97 and mother a mere 85. The morning started at 15°F but bright and sunny. We arrived at the farm in time to stuff the goose and stick it into the oven, and then retired to mother's studio to correct her holiday labels, using her new computer which she has a rocky relationship with. Three hours later the goose was done, the gravey made, the table set with the addition of cranberry sauce, baked yams, and salad. And it really was quite wonderful! And desert followed with punkin and pecan pies. Then we washed it all up, divided leftovers, and drove half an hour back up the river to Richmond and have been half asleep ever since.

Our 2.5 cats have also been enjoying their share of the leftovers!

Cheerily,
Charley Noble