An Open Letter to My Facebook Friends List:
I wanted to thank you all for helping me sort out the Cooking of the Turkey in the Roaster Thingy that goes on the Counter minus the Rack Thingy I couldn’t find. You are all geniuses and I wanted to let you know our little dinner turned out wonderfully.
Actually, the tutkey turned out okay. The pre-dinner conversation was fucking fabulous. I’m a writer, so obviously, the evening was a total WIN.
Keep in mind that the following transcription is mostly true because totally true would mean I KNEW it was going to be this good and I’d have had my phone on record and that would mean I’m psychic and why would I be bloging FOR FREE THEN? So, let’s jump on to the convo, shall we?
The Scene: Thanksgiving, Somewhere in Maine with Lots of Snow and a few Moose, 2014. The Husband has returned from work and dinner is *not* ready to go as he’d hoped.
Him: turkey smells great. How long till we eat?
Me: 2 hours later than you are hoping.
Me: Because I got it going 2 hours later than you told me to. Obviously.
Him: What the hell, woman? Can we start with the pie, then? I only ate half my lunch to save room.
Me: No pie. I was too busy asking FB if could cook the turkey in the Roaster Thingy that goes on the Counter minus the Rack Thingy I couldn’t find. Don’t worry, 27 friends liked my confusion and 19 commented, which is the only reason you aren’t giving thanks for peanut butter and jelly right now.
Him: Twenty-seven, huh?
Me: Or five. Whatever. The Queen of Spain says I’m good. That’s all anyone needs to know.
Him (checking the turkey): UPSIDE DOWN? You put the turkey in Upside Down? Who DOES that? And what does Facebook have to do with my lack of Pie?
Me: I had to wait for people to COMMENT, yo. You know how the Internet works, right? And what the hell? Upside down? What are you talking about?
Him (speaking deliberately and now enunciating every.single.syllable lest he scare the jumper off the bridge): Wait. The Queen of What? Pauline, look at the turkey. Can you tell me where the breast went ?
Me (indignant): I went to high school with royalty. Jealous?
Him: Not really. Just hungry. The breast? Show me. (Calm down, people. He was pointing to the turkey.)
Me: (Looking. Processing. Y’all might wanna thank The Husband for not making you wait … ): Ummmm…
Him (reaching into flip the bird over): It’s RIGHT HERE, babe. (And yes. He pointed. Multiple times. As he turned the bird “right side up”, his eyes saw something else apparently even the manliest of men already know, and when he picked his jaw up from the floor, he said…) and so is the plastic. (Dramatic pause) …and all the bits normal people pull out of the Turkey before stuffing it.
Me (meeting his raised eyebrow with my own): We agreed we weren’t stuffing the Turkey.
Him: That’s all ya got?
Me: Is it edible?
Him: Yes, thank God.
Me: Exactly. And now that we’ve acknowledged the true meaning of today, do me a favor.
Him (grinning): Yes?
Me: Shut up, sit down over there, and give your little girl a kiss. I’ve got a conversation to transcribe before we eat.
Prologue: I didn’t finish baking till 9. They had a few store bought cookies for dessert. and yes, the upside down turkey was delicious