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November 28, 2008

He smiled and closed his eyes.  "Winter Prey" by John Sandford ♦♦♦♦◊

Julie's comment on my Thanksgiving Adventures, Part One post reminded me that we, too had a leaky turkey. I'd stuck it on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator to thaw last week (Friday? Sunday? They've all run together) and then gone about my merry way.

On Tuesday I opened one of the vegetable drawers and found some moisture in there. Upon closer inspection the moisture was pink and the sad realization was upon me. Since the timing of my discovery coincided with the last minute mini-rush that comes when dinner is almost finished and everything's coming together at once, I pulled the drawer out and set it on the counter out of the way so that I could deal with it when the heat was off (so to speak).

Of course, Mr. W. (who thinks that if the wind changes you're going to get salmonella from tap water) wigged about the raw poultry juice and immediately started pulling stuff out and washing and disinfecting. While I'm trying to get dinner on the table.
I'm thankful that I didn't have to clean up the turkey juice mess.
I'm thankful that we were even able to have a turkey to make the mess, in these times when so many must go without.
I'm thankful that Mr. W. did not lecture, complain or berate me for my lack of foresight (and I think there was only one heavy sigh).

I have the remnants of whatever cold/flu I mentioned earlier. The fever's gone and the waterworks seem to have ceased. Today (Friday) I have more oomph and energy than I have had in days. That's not saying that I'm ready to go shopping or even vaccuum my carpets, but I'm actually A. Dressed and B. Not sitting in front of the TV with a box of Kleenex and a cup of tea.

eta: I had to laugh when I published this post. I am NOT sitting in front of the TV with a box of Kleenex and a cup of tea. I AM sitting in front of the computer with a box of Kleenex and a cup of coffee...
I'm thankful that I didn't feel pressured to make everything perfect for this holiday week.
I'm thankful that I didn't make myself feel guilty for not making everything perfect this week.

That cool new turkey lifter was a boon when it came to lifting the turkey from the roaster, but I was right when I worried that it sat too low in the pan - the bottom of the turkey was a little damp. I still had to pull out the big forks to transfer the turkey from the lifter to the cutting surface, because the handles of the lifter didn't fold down out of the way for carving. So, end result? I'm glad I didn't pay an arm and a leg for it; it ended up being an extra step and an extra thing to wash and in the end the cool factor did not outweigh the design flaws.

Nov08 TurkeyBut, damn. Purty, ain't it?

My (step) dad made it his mission in life to cook a turkey that looked like a picture (and still tasted good, I assume). I remember when he and my mom would pull the turkey out partway through cooking and turn it and he/they would do other things to get the golden-brown bird.

Yesterday, my mom said that he'd be proud of my turkey.

So, mom made the fruit salad (Dole Tropical Fruit from those cool plastic jars, sliced banana and Cool Whip), the crunchy plate of raw vegetables and the rolls. J2 brought Onion Pie in a brown rice crust, a dish of sliced yams, apples and mandarin oranges cooked with butter and a tiny bit of brown sugar, and Key Lime Bars.

I'd made the pies the day before (and there was actually one left) and then made the turkey, the stuffing and the gravy.

We three she's sat down to a veritable feast.

08 Feast

And I couldn’t smell or taste a thing.

I confess I pretty much destroyed the part of the turkey that I tried to carve. That’s Mr. W.’s thing, so I’m woefully out of practice. Plus there was the learning curve with the turkey lifter thing.

There’s a fourth place setting there for Mr. W., but he wasn’t able to join us because he was sleeping. Carving duties aside, this made me very sad. Because he works nights, for almost the last year his days and nights have been opposite from the rest of the world (including me). Eating dinner at 3:30 in the afternoon would be like eating dinner at 3:30 in the morning for him. I’m pretty bitter about the fact that he has to work at all, but just sad that it’s changed his life so that he’s missing out on so much. He missed seeing the kids and grandkids when they visited this summer. He misses going to church. He hasn’t seen any of our friends except maybe in passing (and in a fog) and now, for the first time in 17 years, I haven’t sat down to Thanksgiving dinner with the love of my life.

I’m thankful that we have a roof over our heads and land under our feet.
I’m thankful that Mr. W. is willing to work in Hell so that we can live and eat.
And I’m most thankful that he still comes home to me at the end of his shift.

Oh, yeah, and in Hell you apparently literally work your arse off. So I'm also thankful for this (note the huge sleeve not filled with arm, the back pockets forward of the side of his body and, well, the big gap in front is pretty self-explanatory):

his jeans

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permalink 2 Comments:
At 11/28/2008 3:27 PM, Anonymous Anonymous Babbled Back:  

good job for mr w to work his 'arse' off so to speak

i hear you on the midnite hell - dad works nites and it makes scheduling real life stuff 'interesting' to say the least .. but we are rather used to it as he's done for a good 15 years - reg and i both prefer to work nites if we can, but it does make interacting with the rest of the modern world a challenge


At 11/28/2008 3:53 PM, Blogger Julie Babbled Back:  

It sounds like everything turned out fine!!

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