Journal of a Living Lady #361

Nancy White Kelly

Thanksgiving has passed. I secretly vowed to transfer the joy of preparing Thanksgiving dinner to my two daughter-in-laws since it is written in stone that everybody comes to Granny’s for Christmas.

For genuinely good reasons, the daughter-in-laws escaped the intimidating task of cooking the big meal. I was again the main chef. Buddy did his part to make sure that it was a memorable day. Late Thanksgiving Eve, he gave Rocky, our German Shepherd, the huge bucket of sage-covered cornbread, minus the cooked celery and onions that remained in the fridge.

It was an honest mistake. I use that same pink plastic pan everyday to hold our meal left-overs which Buddy adds to Rocky’s dry food in the evening. That pink bucket was a take-home gift from my last stay in the hospital.

A trip to the grocery store for corn meal and some hasty cooking at high temperature brought a new batch of cornbread in time to make the dressing. In spite of the tenuous beginning, Thanksgiving turned out to be a good day full of good food and laughs.

For two weeks Buddy has dutifully finished every version of turkey casserole imaginable without complaining only to see me bring in another big bird for its turn in the oven next week. Tori and Ginger may get their chance to cook in 2010. Perhaps I could lighten up the occasion by doing what a lady friend did one year.

Susan was asked by daughter Lisa to help prepare her first ever Thanksgiving turkey. On the big day, Lisa found she had no cranberries in the cupboard. She rushed to the store to get some.

As if on cue, Susan mischievously took action. She removed a Rock Cornish hen from her big purse. She hastily removed the raw stuffing from the turkey and placed the little Cornish pullet inside. She packed the open hole with some of the displaced dressing.

When Lisa returned from the store, she placed the turkey in the oven. Mother and daughter merrily chatted while the men watched football. Soon Lisa’s sister arrived with her husband and two children. The magic hour arrived.

Susan placed the green beans and assorted dishes on the table. Facing the counter, Lisa began to scoop out the cooked stuffing from the turkey breast into a fancy bowl. Her spoon wouldn’t go further. She couldn't figure out what was stopping it. Susan gleefully offered assistance. She put her hand in the turkey and pulled out the Rock Cornish hen. Lisa screamed and jumped back.

“What have I done?" Lisa wailed as tears welled.

”I just cooked a pregnant turkey.”

As the laughter roared Lisa’s husband explained that turkeys lay eggs. Besides, Tom Turkey was a male!

Every Thanksgiving there ought to be a dog house handy for the likes of Buddy and Susan.

Merry Christmas!

nancyk@windstream.net