Simply Irresistible


“She’s so fine, there’s no tellin’ where the money went!” Who else started singing that after reading “Simply Irresistible” in the title? Now it’s stuck in my head. Sorry.

Okay, this post isn’t about Robert Palmer. It’s about something else irresistible. Food! If you’re like me, you’ve just come off of a week of fabulous feasting with the fam. (Corey tells me that’s a good example of alliteration, by the way.) I love Thanksgiving. I love that people start talking about what they are thankful for. It’s great to feel all the positive vibes. I certainly have a lot to be thankful for myself. But instead of talking about that, I’m going to talk about food! Which I am also thankful for, in case there’s any question.

The daily prompt on WordPress gave me the idea ( The prompt asks for a description of the one food you can’t turn down. The prompt invites you to use words that will make our mouths water. I’ve never written a food blog or food article before – this could be fun! (sitting back and cracking my knuckles) Here we go….

The one food that I can’t turn down is (wait for it) – Twinkies! I’m kidding. I actually haven’t eaten a Twinky since I was a kid. I don’t even know how to spell “Twinky” – does it follow the usual rules of “y” turns into “ies” when pluralizing? I don’t know.

So the truth is, while I love almost everything on the table at Thanksgiving – the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the sweet potatoes, the gravy, the cranberry sauce (both from scratch and the kind that mysteriously holds the shape of the can), the stuffing, the wine, etc. – while I love it all, the one thing I can’t turn down is my mom’s homemade pumpkin pie. It’s simply the best.

She makes the pie from scratch, rolling out the dough, mysteriously using ice water in the preparation, and ending with a crust that is both rich, flaky, and a lovely honey-color to look at when she’s finished. And then there’s the aroma – mmmm. It reminds me of happy times in the kitchen growing up. Those cinnamon scents floating through the air. And finally, the taste – the pie when it’s warm from the oven is a gorgeous caramel color, and when it’s topped with fluffy white mounds of the snowiest white whipped cream – oooooohhhhh! Every bite is a velvety, creamy delight which ends with a taste of flaky, buttery crust. I can’t resist. 

This year, she made me my own pie. A whole pie. Thanks Mom. 

Do you want some pie now?

Happy Thanksgiving!

People are coming to my house!

I don’t know if you heard, but next week – it’s Thanksgiving. Next week. Thursday. Like five days from now. What does this mean? Well it means that I’m going to eat and drink like it’s my job on Thanksgiving day of course! Where are my cookie pants? But I realized as I was walking home from the bus stop today that it also means there are going to be people. In my house. People whose names are not Corey, Mason or Damian. Whose last name is not Fleming.

As I came to this realization, I walked through my front door. And do you know what I saw? I saw dirt. A LOT of dirt. I don’t know about you, but there’s nothing like imminent hosting responsibilities to make me look at my house in a new light. I clearly had not even glanced at my floorboards in months, because I saw a layer of dust befitting an abandoned building. Guess what else I saw. Brown grout. I looked at the poo-colored grout in my tile floor and thought, this could really warrant a call to child services. I think if my mother-in-law or my sister-in-law saw my grout they might use the “f” word. You know – “filthy.”

Since the preschool that I’m subbing at didn’t call me in today, I thought, now is the time to attack this dirt! I changed into my grubbiest clothes, put some music on the TV (does anybody even have a radio anymore?), and I broke out the green sponges that could scour the hide off a cow, got down on my hands and knees and got down to it! I am happy to report, many hours later, that my grout looks good. I have hooker knees now, but the grout – it’s good. Good non-poo-colored grout.

I still have to buy food/plan a menu/wash stuff/get booze/find my underwear – I mean, wait. Scratch that last part. This isn’t college anymore. Anyway, let’s face it – prepping for a holiday, even one as wonderful as Thanksgiving, is a boatload of work. So instead of freaking out about the 800 things I have left to do, today I am focusing on the fact that my kitchen – and my grout! – is clean.

Happy Thanksgiving-prep time, everybody!