Flop Bott: Full of Effort: Non- Martha Stewart Style

"Make it look effortless." Kathleen said as she pulled the rolls, shaped like bunnies, from the oven.

(Kathleen's Kitchen)

We'd been working together on an Easter Feast. Wiping the sweat from my brow I logged the Martha Stewart advice away for another time.

Weeks later, I toiled in the same kitchen making a surprise picnic for a friend.

He came over and we ate at the round table I'd set up in the picturesque back yard.

I'd placed cute tableware on the pink and white checked table cloth. Homemade lemonade sat in the clear pitcher, lemons bobbing along with the ice.

(looking toward the garden room Grenn put in while I lived with him and Kathleen)

It was summer.

The whole meal took A LOT of effort. But I tried to play it cool until he left. After bringing in the food I went downstairs, climbed into the shower and let the hot water soothe my aching muscles.

Once my hair was drenched and the tears mixed in with the water, I turned the shower head so I could lay down in the small cubicle, put my feet up, and let gravity relieve the swelling that had pooled in my legs and feet. (A side effect of prednisone.)

Thank goodness yesterday's meal didn't have prednisone as a side dish. I woke up, showered, and readied myself for the day. Then I rolled up my sleeves to get to work.

As you can see, we have a lot to be thankful for here:

(All the effort that went into growing our Prize Pumpkin', can't fit into a single post. But doesn't it radiate the TRUE Thanksgiving spirit the Pilgrims felt when the Indians showed up and shared a meal with them?)

Fortunately, my mother was training the baby of the family, all 6 feet of her, how to cook. When I heard her ask: "what is this" and my mom explain to her that it was the neck of the turkey simmering in the pot on the stove to help moisten and flavor the gravy followed by gagging noise- I had to grab the cam.

(Yup, my parents saved all the tall genes for the last child who wanted nothing to do with sports.)

So to the strains of Abby's holiday CD, I got the mop out, filled a bucket with hot water/cleaner, and took to the galley:

and the dust.

I shined the toilets for the company we were expecting. Pulling out my finest towels with Great Grandma Smith's tatting so as to put on the "airs" of a Martha Stewart holiday.

But I wasn't about to make the mistake of acting like it was nothing.

Heck, if ya do that here, your kin is lible to think: "You 'ain done nuttin'". If you go around looking like you just stepped out of a salon after getting up at 3 am to get the Turkey ready, they will think it hopped in there and stuffed itself.

Besides, I can't pull off insider trading and serve prison time as effortlessly as Martha.