text: (Pilgrim's) Progress Report | SheKnows
  Looking back, it's a blur, a filmy orange streak. Thanksgiving Day 2012 is. I thought I was ready, that this would be the year I'd achieve my goal. I didn't want much, just to get everything on the table at its appropriate temperature. I was on track too, until they arrived, the invited guests. Then everything went SHABOING, like one of those trickster cans of peanuts that you open and out shoots a cloth-covered spring, wild with potential energy.
  Right after the toaster oven door rattled shut, I felt her breath stir my hair.
  "Shake it like crazy." As she shook, her face glowed. "I remember now!" she said. "My mom used to make gravy like this."