photo credit: SliceOfChic via photopin cc
Happy final Saturday before Christmas, awesome readers!
And so the last-minute panics leading up to “the big, stupid day” begin.
(You can read about why I think the person who invented Christmas hates me here.)
I don’t know about you but every year at this time I tell myself: “next year I’m starting my shopping in September.”
I never do.
In fact the only thing I buy in September that’s “Christmassy” is a turkey because that’s when they go on sale. My mother and I have an unwritten contract: I buy the turkey; she cooks it. This is a win for the whole family.
So I buy a turkey – or two if I’m hungry while shopping – and into my freezer it goes with the intention of taking it out about a week before the big turkey day. Or until my mom reminds me.
Which I realize sounds great in theory except that it turns into a three-step process for several days leading up to the 25th:
Step 1:
My mother calls to remind me to take the turkey out of the freezer.
Step 2:
I promise to take it out “right away”.
Step 3:
I forget.
The next day the pattern repeats itself. In my house, this defines The 12 Days of Christmas.
And then on Christmas morning I go over to my mom’s house with the still-frozen turkey and say, “I don’t know why it’s still frozen. It’s been in my fridge since American Thanksgiving!”
Every year I get the same eye-rolling response from my mother as she takes the turkey and puts it in her sink with cold water for a few hours. Apparently cold water helps things defrost quicker. Go figure.
PS. In my family, eye rolling is a form of sign language. It means __________________(INSERT SWEAR WORD HERE)
Anyone who comes over later that morning will find my mother and I wrestling the turkey to the ground as we build up a sweat trying to pry the damn thing open because stuffing.
I’m going to assume that you’ve never experienced this labour-intensive way of cooking a turkey because you’re more organized and prepared than I am. Also you don’t have to depend on me to be responsible with a turkey. To which I say: My mother envies you.
Even a free-style alligator wrestling champion would agree: frozen turkeys are a tough bird. They also cause brain-freeze in your hands.
Speaking of turkey, I better go take it out of the freezer while I’m thinking about it. (Thanks for reminding me, dear readers!)
Meanwhile, here’s the weekly wrap up!
At the beginning of the week I was feeling ambitious in the kitchen and even considered starting my own cooking show. Apparently a lot of you thought this would be a great idea. You can read about that here.
This post was written in celebration of sleep deprivation. It’s a national holiday in my house. Or should be.
And finally there’s this post where I explain my swearing habits.
That’s it for this week.
And now, I’m off to rescue the turkey from my freezer before I forget to remember. Again. This way when my mom calls me to remind me later I’ll be like, “What? It’s done already! Geesh.”
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