Last year I promised myself it was my last year to make giblet gravy.  I like to never got it into the car to transport last year, much less make it.  But Scott called and asked if I was making giblet gravy.  Nothing else--just that.  So I buckled down yesterday, went to the store and bought two hens, gizzards, and livers and put them on to boil.

You can't make decent gravy with store bought chicken broth.  You have to make your own.  When everything was cooked--till it fell off the bone--I boned both chickens, separated the white and brown meat and put it all in the refrigerator.  I was whipped.  

Now I remember the other reason I decided not to make it.  Exhaustion.  And of course I always make the dressing.  So there were the onions and celery to chop up and cook.  And corn bread to bake.   By the time I got through with all of that it was 6 PM and there were dishes to hand wash (too big for the DW). 

Then I read for an hour or so.  Jeanette has me reading a second book to her that I've finished.  I can only do that for a little while before I get hoarse and my throat gets scratchy or my phone has to be recharged. 

Today, I'm going to mix up the dressing and cook it.  I've got everything ready to mix together.  Tomorrow I'll do the gravy.  I still have to boil the eggs for that.  I swear, I'm never going to do giblet gravy again.

Last night I told my sister Lisa, that I think I'm done and over the hill and she said that if I'd teach her, she would learn to make giblet gravy. (She's 21 years younger than me).  She reminded me that our mom hated to bone a chicken and that she had to do that growing up.  So did I!! I told her.  So she's halfway to doing it.  Next year I'll do the dressing and let her do the gravy.  It's time to pass it on to someone else.  Nobody knows how I do it.  It's Butter.