You know what makes me sick? You know what makes me so mad I just wanna floss my teeth with Christmas tree tinsel?
People always talk about the holiday season. It’s all about family, and giving… and them jingle bells. Christmas trees and old Christmas movies. A fat ol’ elf slipping down your chimney. Yep. And people always over-look the one true meaning of this time of year. It’s gravy season.
I know. I tricked you. Y’all probably thinking I was going to mention the Baby Jesus. And honestly – I should have. He is the reason for the season, as they say. But after the good lord laying in the manger… number two would be – gravy.
Prime Gravy Season
If you love gravy like I do, this time between Thanksgiving and Christmas… is prime gravy season. It starts with Thanksgiving. When your mama puts a tub of steaming hot gravy on the table. I always thought it was funny how people all the times calculate how big of a turkey to buy. Ten people showing up… a pound and a half of meat per person. Nobody ever pulls out a calculator to figure out the gravy. We do. My family starts at a half-a-gallon a person. We love gravy.
Then there is always visiting over the holidays. You spend a night at your mama’s house and you might likely wake up to a breakfast of biscuits and gravy. That’s – if your mama loves you. That’s thick white gravy with lumps of sausage that will make a grown man cry.
Then on a cold December night… meat loaf, mashed taters… and mushroom gravy. That’s the redneck equivalent of a hot cocoa right there. I don’t know how many times I struggled to get home on a winter’s night and my old lady asked…’ You want me to make you a hot chocolate?’ And I go, ‘No – but I’ll take a meat loaf.’
And there’s all sorts of gravy – so women, there is no excuse. You can buy gravy in a jar. A packet of gravy mix. And if you’re lucky, men – you married a woman that knows her way around a pan of hot drippings. You married a woman that knows how to turn meat sweat into gravy – she’s a keeper.
Wake up, America!! So tis the season, folks. Hug your spouse… love your kids. And enjoy your gravy. I’m Earl Pitts, American. Pitts Off!
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