thanksgiving grits


Strange dreams last night (as is usually the case).  One was about Thanksgiving.  I was trying to make the perfect dinner, including a shrimp and grits appetizer.  I called Jason to ask how he prepared his Thanksgiving grits; he said he added Stove Top stuffing.

I’m guessing this was at least partially inspired by the infomercial I saw yesterday, wherein they cooked a juicy turkey in a thing that looks like an old fashioned hair dryer.  You know the kind–old ladies sitting around reading magazines with these things covering their recently permed hair.  

And I made chicken and currant dressing for dinner last night.  I suppose that had something to do with the dream, too.

But none of that accounts for the next dream I had.  My friend Rowan was being stalked by a goth girl.  She really wanted to go out with him and he was struggling to find a way to break it off with her, not just because Rowan is gay, but because he didn’t like her.  Then I went to the Heartbreak Hotel, which, sadly, had been shut down.  I broke in and rummaged through piles of old towels, empty shampoo bottles and dead plants.  In a back room, I found goth girl hunkered down in a corner.  She was writing feverously.  

Now what do you think that means?  

And yes, I realize how pointless this post is.  Mostly I just wanted to write about Thanksgiving grits.  Say it outloud.  It just rolls off the tongue. 

In other news, it’s supposed to get up to 85 today.  Crap. 

Author: Kim Sharp

more later

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