Holiday Magic Courtesy Potluck Dinners Exuded Delicious Aroma At 324 Level Road

Mother would patschke early that day in the kitchen, and recruit any guest, who blindly ambled thru front door suddenly trapped unwittingly squarely (triangulated) into kitchen forcibly impressed to help set up buffet tables and/or given carte blanche to prepare some mysterious dish, (a hodgepodge of ingredients), that suffered no shortages of compliments unfortunately could never be duplicated. Guests harkened far and wide word of mouth boastful rantings and ravings superseded culinary Michelin Guides to dole out seven stars, which wordsworth meant "exceptional cuisine promised hungry visitor a special satisfactory journey." "Time to eat" (usually bellowed courtesy father) generated an orderly stampede to jostle in line and commence maximizing capacity testing sturdiness disposable plates could hold scouting, shoe horning, staking... place to become comfortably numb with satiation. Amidst various and sundry masticating jaws (with each respective mouthful of food glorious food - cue said Oliver Twist song title) followed by draught of spirits ejaculations of delight issued, and punctuated the sound of silence when not additionally interrupted courtesy sibilant crackling popping, and snapping wood burning stove, which aforementioned heat source lulled well fed tummies whereby heavy eyelids drooped while heads sank into chest. No matter hunger pangs quieted evidenced by casserole, glass, pyrex... scraped clean rumors heralding dessert quickly awoke wine weary souls analogous to sluggish animals awakening out their hibernation, when self anointed maître d' showcased good n plenti desserts (pies, ice cream, cookies and cakes galore) she made house special comprising secret ingredients. Upon being stuffed to the hilt (dear kith and kin mother all counted as family think taxidermist specimen readied for mounting) all pledged a unanimous New year's resolution vouchsafed to start on diet come January first.