I Turkey, You Turkey.
I made me a turkey. But I didn't touch the guts. I barely touched the raw bird at all. I made my med school friend (who was visiting from NY) touch it because she wasn't afraid of the flesh. She does flesh. She even liked looking in at its cathedral of ribs.
So she rinsed it and I patted its butt dry (which turned out to be its neck--weird), we slathered the goosebump skin with butter and salt and pepper and popped it in the oven. Three hours later, a golden gorgeous beast.
If I do say so myself, it was a damn good bird. But not better than my stuffing. Boy was that stuffing good: cornbread, onions, celery, apples, bacon. Nothing over the top, but it was mighty tasty. Which brings me to wonder, who thought of the stuffing? Who was it that said, let's stuff the bird full of ... hmmm, I've got it ... BREAD! That'll be GOOD. Whoever they were, they were right on the money.
When we were sitting down to dinner and I had the table all set with my pretty red plates and real cloth napkins and stuff, Sam discovered pepper on his plate. He was afraid of the pepper. He didn't believe it was pepper, so he said he'd just have to use a blue plate (yes, we ended up with some red, some blue plates--long story.). I'm ashamed to say I freaked. Looking back, it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it was my TABLE. And if you've seen what my sister Amara can do, what she posted about her Thanksgiving on her blog, you know why I had to hold on to the uniformity of my red plates, at the very least.
Which, yeah, getting all worked up like that made my prayer of Thanksgiving really powerful and sincere and sweet and gentle. Actually, no, it was lame. And I had such self-righteous plans to display my spiritual gratitude in front of my non-mormon crowd. Which is probably exactly why I didn't get to. Sigh.
But still, a good dinner. Something satisfying about doing the whole show. And I had a very long nap and then a very tasty pie and we watched a movie and then I actually got really sad. I miss my family: my big, big family with babies and my mom and my dad and my siblings. Friends and husband are wonderful. But why can I not have my family, too? Is that really too much to ask? Christmas. I wait for Christmas.
So she rinsed it and I patted its butt dry (which turned out to be its neck--weird), we slathered the goosebump skin with butter and salt and pepper and popped it in the oven. Three hours later, a golden gorgeous beast.
If I do say so myself, it was a damn good bird. But not better than my stuffing. Boy was that stuffing good: cornbread, onions, celery, apples, bacon. Nothing over the top, but it was mighty tasty. Which brings me to wonder, who thought of the stuffing? Who was it that said, let's stuff the bird full of ... hmmm, I've got it ... BREAD! That'll be GOOD. Whoever they were, they were right on the money.
When we were sitting down to dinner and I had the table all set with my pretty red plates and real cloth napkins and stuff, Sam discovered pepper on his plate. He was afraid of the pepper. He didn't believe it was pepper, so he said he'd just have to use a blue plate (yes, we ended up with some red, some blue plates--long story.). I'm ashamed to say I freaked. Looking back, it doesn't seem like a big deal, but it was my TABLE. And if you've seen what my sister Amara can do, what she posted about her Thanksgiving on her blog, you know why I had to hold on to the uniformity of my red plates, at the very least.
Which, yeah, getting all worked up like that made my prayer of Thanksgiving really powerful and sincere and sweet and gentle. Actually, no, it was lame. And I had such self-righteous plans to display my spiritual gratitude in front of my non-mormon crowd. Which is probably exactly why I didn't get to. Sigh.
But still, a good dinner. Something satisfying about doing the whole show. And I had a very long nap and then a very tasty pie and we watched a movie and then I actually got really sad. I miss my family: my big, big family with babies and my mom and my dad and my siblings. Friends and husband are wonderful. But why can I not have my family, too? Is that really too much to ask? Christmas. I wait for Christmas.
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