A Routine Thanksgiving Ritual

I'm off to town in a couple hours. On my way to The Pony's house. Once again, The Pony has forgotten some leftovers from our Thanksgiving feast. It happens every year. Some things are packed ahead, like the "vinchtables" The Pony loves. Others are gathered after the meal. There are designated containers that don't need to be returned. And a box from Save A Lot to haul everything in as Farmer H drives The Pony home.

I even went through a checklist before they departed.

"Do you have ham? Your bag of salad? Dressing? Deviled eggs? Stuffing? Your rolls? Oreo cake? The red onion, and boiled eggs for your salad? The bread? Any little pickles? Do you want pickles? Or olives?"

Yes, The Pony had everything. Quite sure. Off they went.

I called Friday morning. Because Thursday night, after reminding The Pony by text to send me the pictures of everybody's plate, I also received this reply:

"You forgot to give me a bread loaf!"

Well. It was right there in the cabinet, where we've kept the bread since we moved into the Mansion. And I HAD asked if the bread was among the leftovers packed. Silly me. Perhaps I should have presented that half-loaf of Hawaiian Bread on a silver platter!

Anyhoo... I love The Pony. And I will drive that bread over to Pony House. Along with the used-once bottle of Caesar Dressing that was forgotten on the door of FRIG II.

After all, I have them here. I don't need to fight the non-Black-Friday shoppers clogging the grocery stores, stocking up on bread and eggs and milk ahead of the supposed winter storm that might bring us 2 inches of snow on Friday night.