sistawendy | minimal Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving dinner last night was just Ex, the Wendling, and I at her place. She had originally wanted to include another family, but I told her a couple of weeks ago that I wasn't comfortable with that. Given that feeding people is Ex's love language, a smaller group must have hurt, but she coped. The eetz:

A whole chicken, not turkey. Right on.
My cornbread dressing. I now have enough to last until at least Monday; it didn't occur to me while I was cooking that the quantity I usually make serves more than three people just fine.
Ex's bread dressing. I gotta tell you, I like mine better.
Ex's maternal grandmother's mashed potatoes.
Cranberry sauce made fresh because we're snobby like that and we don't care if you don't like it.
Mayo-free coleslaw. Thumbs up.
Pumpkin pie with whipped cream into which Ex added ginger sugar, which is a really nice touch.
Apple & quince tart. Ex is all about quinces, and that too is OK.
White wine. Ex asked me to bring a bottle, but it's still unopened at her place.

Entertainment: Breakfast At Tiffany's. Somehow I'd never seen it all the way through. It has fantastic dialog, but Ex reminded me why I hate watching movies with her: she talks.

Whenever the three of us are together, my son must feel like his parents are ganging up on him. We totally are.

Ex has been having the usual woes of a freelancer. She expressed worries about money, and the house was cool enough that my stocking feet started to go numb toward the end of the evening.

Shallow fashion details: