OK, I know I said I was taking a break. But since I've been cooking all day, I've had time to think about some Thanksgivings past. I think I'll share two of the most memorable.
About 1992, when we still lived in town. I had put a turkey in the oven in one of those roasting bags. When it was finally done and falling apart, the following scene took place.
Me: Thank goodness it's done. (I open the over door)
Howard: Stand back. You know you are too clumsy to take that out of the oven without dropping it. (He reaches in and grabs the pan.)
Hayley: (About 11 years old) Olivia, Jason, come quick! Daddy dropped the turkey on the floor! Hahahahahahahaha.
About 1996. I'm cleaning up the kitchen and washing the electric knife that I had carefully used to slice the turkey, without incident. I reach across for something and slice my finger. Blood is going everywhere. It looks like the Dan Akroyd version of Julie Child on Saturday Night Live.
Me: I think I need a cold towel.
Jason: Oh man, you really sliced it.
Howard: (From his recliner, not looking) Do you need a bandaid?
Jason: I think it's a little late for a bandaid. I can see white stuff in there.
Me: I think I better go get some stitches.
Howard: Emergency Room! Your favorite place.
Jason takes me to the ER and they don't take me immediately.
We wait. They finally call me.
Jason: Can you tell them to hurry. I really didn't plan to spend all night here. I have plans.
Me: I'll try. Sigh
Happy Thanksgiving. May there be no turkeys on the floor or blood on the counter.