Twas The Night Before Turkey

And here I am waiting for pies to come out of the oven. Not that they do that on their own. But wouldn't it be handy if they did? That would be pie, singular, as the pecan pie was done to perfection when the timer went off. The pumpkin was still a little sloppy and needed another ten minutes or so. I must say that I'm not a fan of custard pie on the rare side. It's something I prefer completely cooked. Probably the egg factor. And speaking of eggs, this holiday feast day's pies have been concocted with locally grown eggs! Courtesy of Tigh's actual mother. Sometimes I pretend to be his mom, and because he delivered these lovely eggs right to my door, at this moment he is my favorite surrogate son. Dinner preparations, you ask? The turkey is thawed, the bread for the stuffing is cubed, pies are in progress. The wine is chilling in the walk-in fridge, otherwise known as the garage. I'd set the pies out there to cool, but now that you know they're out there, they might be gone by morning! I think I'll keep them inside, if it's all the same to you. The turkey goes in the oven around nine tomorrow AM. Until then I expect I should sleep. I can tell I'm tired because I have lapsed into rambling. Where pie and whipped cream shall dance in my head, I expect. Just so long as they're not tap dancing.