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.)
SPLAT
Hayley: (About 11 years old) Olivia, Jason, come quick! Daddy dropped the turkey on the floor! Hahahahahahahaha.
Me: Great.
Another one.
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.
Terry says I'm tired. Must have been. Two typos fixed. See, I've been sent to the House of Corrections again.
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