Thanksgiving Eve, and I Only Dropped One Thing

The butter is on the counter. The flour is everywhere. I have a saucepan that needs stirring every four minutes and I keep forgetting about it until it starts making a noise it shouldn't. This is what holiday cooking looks like for me, apparently.

I called Sophie earlier, she lives two buildings over, and we ended up deciding to just spend the evening doing our respective cooking projects in the same kitchen, which is how I found myself sharing approximately fourteen square feet of counter space with someone else's pie crust ambitions. It's chaotic. It's also the best Thanksgiving eve I've had in a while, which says something, though I'm not sure what.

mid-laugh, mid-batter. the bowl is losing.

There's something about the night before a holiday that feels more like the holiday than the actual holiday sometimes. The apartment smells like butter and something warm and I have flour on my sleeve and the window's dark and I genuinely don't want it to end. I took a few photos mostly because I knew I'd forget otherwise, the way the kitchen looks right now, a little wrecked, completely ours.

not as graceful as it looks. it doesn't look graceful.

Happy Thanksgiving, if you're celebrating. I hope your kitchen looks exactly like this. I hope you drop at least one thing. I hope there's someone around who laughs when you do.