I apologize to all of my readers for not being here in a while. I was having a bit of a hard time trying to do my homework, helping a friend out and having a bit of writer’s block.  Nonetheless I want to thank you all for your support it truly means a lot to me. I have been proud of my little blog and I hope it entertains you as well.

What inspired me today? Thanksgiving, more importantly the Turkey. I have been cooking Thanksgiving Turkeys for more than Fifteen years and every year I have a mild panic attack as if it were my first time. First it starts as soon as the last trick or treater, who is approximately nineteen years old with a case of the munchies, rings my bell, collects his bounty of the last of my Halloween candy and closes the door. *sound of my front door closing and the light being turned out. ‘I wonder if I should order a live turkey this year?’ Let the over thinking begin!!!!

I ponder such questions as “Should I order a fresh turkey or do I just get a frozen one?” Then the real drama begins with “Who is coming to my house?” I stopped inviting people to my home because I just got tired of being rejected. The sad thing is I am an amazing cook…don’t let that quiche fool you, she was a fucking bitch and she knows it! Trying to make me look bad in front of my new husband. I am an amazing cook and I always have too much food.

Next after I realized that my indecisiveness has led me directly to the only option of just getting a fresh turkey rather than a live turkey I start in with ‘Is it time to buy the turkey?’ This starts two weeks before Thanksgiving or whenever it is that they start putting the turkeys out at the grocery store. Why yes I do buy my turkey at the grocery store because I am too lazy and indecisive to be a turkey snob. I would love to be a true turkey snob but that takes effort and also someone who doesn’t have mild anxiety about leaving the house. So I start seeing the turkeys in the grocery store and I over think it. Should I buy it now? Will it be too soon? I want a fresh turkey rather than a frozen one but then I would have to freeze it and that would defeat the purpose. This little dilemma consumes my waking hours right up until I have realized that “Oh great, Thanksgiving is next week?” What happens if I missed out on all of the good turkeys? I look at my fridge and it is not even ready to have a turkey shoved in there.

Now I have to eat all of the food in my fridge before I can shop for my turkey. Then I start looking at my calendar and think “Is seven days too soon to buy a fresh turkey?” “Is five days too soon?” Before I know it I am standing in the grocery store Turkey-eve and trying to find a fresh not frozen turkey for five people.

My options are usually the reasonable frozen thirteen pound turkey or the fresh twenty five pound turkey. This happens every year. EVERY fucking year!! I am sorry that I don’t have my thanksgiving shit together, but guys I have a life too. I have to overthink the turkey for a solid fucking month first and find myself at the grocery store the night before with this exact dilemma every year. You have your traditions and I have mine. Sometimes I have my husband with me and he always says something like “Get the big one. Turkeys are supposed to be big!”

Now that I have this monster pterodactyl to bring home I search on line to see when I should stuff it and get it in the oven. You see when I was a child my parents would get up at some insane time in the morning to “dress the bird!” and get it in the oven. That is ludicrous  and I am not getting up at ass o’clock to cook thanksgiving. We will simply eat when the thing is done. So what we have eaten Thanksgiving dinner at nine o’clock at night before, like I’ve said, You have your traditions and I have mine. I get this gigantic turkey into my fridge and I start on the breads. You have to have breads for breakfast. I make some banana bread and some cranberry bread, this is what my mom did and so I do it too. Don’t worry we usually eat half of this when it is fresh out of the oven because we know that tomorrow at Thanksgiving we are going to wish to have our stomachs pumped because of our gluttony that we are not accustomed to.

It is time to go to bed because I have to get up and overthink this damn bird tomorrow too and that means I have to be well rested. I stay up all night checking the math to make sure that atillatheturkey gets in the oven in time. I fall asleep around three or so, because I always force myself to go to sleep around three or so because I saw a movie trailer about some lady being possessed and she was awake at three fifty five every morning and I am connecting some supernatural dots and that fucking shit can’t happen to me on Thanksgiving. Could you imagine being possessed and trying to cook a thanksgiving meal? What the hell would that even look like? No thank you, Ma’am!

Now it is morning and I hear everyone meandering and I look at the clock. Nine o’clock in the morning? Are you kidding me? Every day I get up and out of bed before eight but the day that my rising on time saves my family from trichinosis and I fail. I bound out of bed and run downstairs to make my stuffing. It’s a secret recipe and I am going to share it here with all of you now. I start with portabella mushrooms sautéed in oil and garlic, then I throw in some diced celery, then I take the box of stovetop and follow the directions because that shit is delicious. I made it one time because I was pregnant and cheating at my stuffing and it turns out that I love stovetop stuffing. I am sharing this all with you so  that you can enjoy your holiday. Now I get the giblets out of the bird, unless I bought the frozen one, because if I bought the frozen one then that son of a bitch hasn’t thawed yet and I immediately try to become a molecular physicist for the day and try to find a new way to thaw the bird. I also get it as thawed as possible then have to stick my poor little virgin hand up the turkey’s ass and pull out the frozen giblets that apparently have taken up a pact to never leave the womb. Like the worst gynecologist in the world I grab any tool I can to pry this plastic amniotic sack out of the poor turkey. My hand is all cut up from the shards of ice, The bag is ripped and I a worry about plastic remnants in the cavity. This is why I always go with the gargantuan fresh bird. I know what I’m doing wrong, shut up!

I finally get my bird stuffed and in the oven. But wait the damn thing doesn’t fit right. So now I am some sort of oven mechanic and I have to remove parts to fit the pan of enormous turkey into my oven. I know there is a better way and I dream about the days after Halloween when I was going to pick out a live turkey. Also, I could never meat my meal first. I would have a pet turkey and for thanksgiving we would be having pizza. Don’t worry the turkey would probably die of natural causes by christmas because how do you even take care of a turkey. I don’t fucking know. Me standing outside trying to feed my turkey captain crunch sounds about right. So, no we must do it this way. There are too many problems with the live turkey scenario.

I get the turkey wedge in the oven and hope for the best. Now we wait! My children are patient people until the turkey starts to smell like dinner, then the question that must be answered a thousand times over is “When is dinner going to be done?”

(so here’s the thing, i don’t actually know because i started to do the turkey math and ended my night doing possession math because i was like i better get to sleep in an hour before the devil takes over my body, forty-five minutes until i am possessed, thirty minutes and it is doomsday for me, twenty minutes ‘Oh God please have mercy on my soul!’ and now that math is fresh in my mind and the turkey math is not)

“Oh I think it should be ready about six thirty!” I baste my turkey because I have seen it on tv. I don’t actually know how to baste a turkey but it keeps me busy and my turkey is always delicious and moist so I must be doing it right. Plus nothing says actively cooking more than opening the oven every few minutes and running liquid over your half frozen bird.

Sometimes we have to eat dessert at six thirty because the pie is done. Then we are usually super full by the time the turkey hits the table. I always take a picture of it. My pictures of my turkeys all look the same and turkeys in my pictures look like the before makeup version of any movie star. Your like “So that’s what she really looks like!” But my turkey tastes delicious. It is always juicy and flavorful. I really am an awesome cook, it’s just this is how insecure people cook. We doubt ourselves and have trouble making decisions. But hey Thanksgiving turkey at nine pm is amazing.

Moral of my story: Accept your traditions even if they look like mine. Remember that it is a holiday to spend with family and friends and the turkey doesn’t always have to be the star. I mean I make a fabulous banana bread and that’s usually the first thing we eat on Thanksgiving. The cranberry bread is sort of the bread that everyone is like “I don’t like cranberry bread!” until the banana bread is all gone then all of a sudden cranberry bread is not that bad. I feel you cranberry bread, I am cranberry bread. Just enjoy your holiday with those you love and if they get on your nerves, go to the store because you forgot something. Stores are open on Thanksgiving just for that purpose.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Until next time:)

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