Thanksgiving morn

It rained last night. The fog is so thick I cannot see the other side of the river. A neighbor left his Christmas lights, already hung, on during the night. Henry is wearing his sheep pajamas bottoms with his red nightshirt. He woke up at approximately 7:30a.m. and came into our room whispering "Mup. Mama's mup." He brought several stuffed toys with him. It is quiet. I have heard two cars cross the bridge, instead of the steady drone of traffic common on most weekday mornings. There is a cinnamon roll recipe sitting on the kitchen counter. My wedding rings are resting in the cupboard by the wine glasses. This is where I place them when I am baking. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen yesterday. I expect more of the same today. We have one guest joining us for dinner but are preparing emough food for half a dozen or better. I have considered various ways in which I can use the leftovers so that we are not wasteful. Turkey soup is on the list. Our menu is missing the traditional cranberry sauce, and I am okay with that. In the past, I have only used cranberries in an apple pie recipe. I am not making that pie for this holiday meal. It has been replaced by a raisin pie recipe. My husband and our guest claim to like raisin pie. I hope they do. I plan on having a slice of the pumpkin. Henry is now playing with his puzzle trucks. There is one truck that is red and has a bed full of rocks that he mistakenly calls a fire truck. In between practicing the birthday song, he is counting his toys. He still leaves out the number four. It is time to go. The cinnamon rolls are not going to make themselves.