| Sometimes I wonder if God has a television, and if, on that television, he watches people. If this is the case, I am certain my particular television show comes on every Wednesday night, and it's a sitcom... like the good sitcoms from the '90s and early part of the millenium, not the crappy sitcoms they have now. I should explain. Thanksgiving, for me, is traditionally a time of sitting around and, well, eating. A lot. Traditionally, I do even less than the men in my family, playing a large role in the eating process but very little else. Occasionally I entertain a small child. That's about it, though. So when my mom told me that my grandmother's 80th birthday part was happening in combination with Thanksgiving the day before the big turkey day, I said, okay. No big deal. I'll clean up my crap, sleep in until noon, and smell delicious things. Particularly now that I'm a vegetarian, I won't have to think about anything. This is where God begins to laugh. My cousin calls me at 8:40 AM. "I'm bringing the roaster over!" she says. I'm like, okay, well, someone needs to let her in. So I climb downstairs in my bright purple pajama pants and sweatshirt to unlock the door, figuring she'll drop it and I'll go back to bed. First, she comes in with two (uncooked) turkeys. Then she brings the roaster in. Then she says, "Now let me call your Aunt Robin to see exactly how she wants you to cook these." Me? Cook?! If there were ever a moment in my life when I looked confused, this was it. I've never cooked a turkey. My mother's never even cooked a turkey. I had this horrible flashback to the time I tried to make pancakes and almost set the house on fire... I also had a quick flash back to the time when I tried to blend orange juice concentrate and it instead ended up all over the walls... Again I ask: Me? Cook?! I'm handed the phone and my aunt begins to rattle off instructions. I write them all down, fearing for my life and wondering what on earth is going on, mostly because I've gotten less than ten hours of sleep in the past two days, but also because I'm not entirely sure what giblets look like. I get off the phone, my cousin leaves, and there I am, stuck with two twelve-pounders and no clue. So what does any modern girl do in this situation? I googled "how to cook a turkey" and prayed for results. And yet, there was still nothing that explained what giblets looked like. I spent the next hour with my hand in the main cavity of a not-quite-thawed turkey. That's right, a frozen turkey ass. I can hear the laugh track now. After spending too much time around the frozen-ness, I decided that the plastic bag of giblets was probably frozen inside the cavity. At a loss for the proper procedure to thaw a turkey on a moment's notice, as well as a general misplacement of good ideas with my tiredness, I pulled out my hairdryer and stuck it, uh, in the cavity. What a great sight. After three frantic phone calls, including one to my mother (who was more confused than me, if that is possible), I woke up my brother with this call: "WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!!! I HAVE TO COOK TWO TURKEYS AND I CAN'T FIND THE GIBLETS AND YOU HAVE TO TAKE THE GIBLETS OUT BEFORE YOU MAKE THE TURKEY AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING SO WAKE UP NOW!" Soon after, I received a phone call from one of my cousins, reminding me to check the neck cavity if I couldn't find the giblets in the main cavity. I didn't even know there was a neck cavity, but the second I found the cavity I found the plastic bag of giblets, also known as turkey guts. At the same time as my cousin called, the men came to fix our garage, which my dad had run into with my brother's car a couple of months ago. The laugh track was on repeat as I answered the door in my bright purple pajama pants, on the phone talking about how I couldn't find the guts in the turkey's butt. My life is good. Can I mention again that I'm a vegetarian? Does this make this story any better? Because I think it does. All's well that ends well, though. The rest of my family came home and helped, and after a few terrified phone calls on how to use a turkey roaster, wonderful smells were emitted into our entire house once again. I helped with the mashed potatoes, the gravy, and the corn casserole, in addition to the turkeys. I also cleaned all day in between oven time. Many compliments were given, P.S. I'm helping to make another turkey for Friday. Notes from this adventure: It was frigging ridiculous and I never want to do it again. I'm marrying a chef-accountant-auto mechanic so that I don't have to cook, do my taxes, or worry about getting my car fixed ever again. Furthermore, I am going to get more sleep so I don't get roped into things like this unknowingly. One final note: Happy Thanksgiving kids. Be thankful you don't have to cook the turkey. Also be thankful that you're not one of the original Native Americans who were thrown off of their land so that crazy Europeans could celebrate this holdiay in their new "homeland." Also, be thankful you're not as bitter and cynical as me. Kidding. Have a great holiday :) |
