- Make the turkey moist. This sounds vaguely dirty to me, and I did not ask for further information. I simply nodded my ascent and smooshed my eyebrows together in a way that said, “Yes, this is a wise idea.”
- Get a turkey with a pop-up thingie to let me know when the turkey is done. Ummmm….ok. Also, vaguely dirty, but I’m starting to think that maybe that’s just me. I’m also wondering if I could not just set an oven timer or read a recipe or something or other, and I’m wondering how the Pilgrims knew when their turkeys were done. But any-hoo, duly noted. I need a turkey with a pop-up thingie.
- Get a large enough bird. We want to be able to feed a small army and invite both Pilgrims and Natives alike, therefore we will need a bird weighing approximately 1 metric crap ton. I had no idea we were hosting the neighborhood turkey dinner at our house, but now I will certainly be prepared. I should probably also peel and mash a dump truck full of potatoes.
- Cook the turkey in the SACRED TURKEY PAN. Said pan has been delivered to our house—a week in advance—and is waiting for the golden turkey to be placed lovingly inside for tender roasting in our oven. Ohhhh-kaaay. I was gonna get one of those tin foil jobbies I could just roll up and throw away when I was done, but what-evs. (Shrug.)
- Stuff the turkey with deliciously seasoned stuffing before cooking. (Crap, I think I failed to mention to her that Mama’s not planning to be elbow-deep in turkey ass on Thanksgiving eve.)
- Check box on Hallmark catering form.
- Pick up pre-cooked turkey/stuffing/the works at work on Wednesday.
- Pour glass of wine and wait for guests to arrive.
Happy 10th Birthday, Marissa Grace. You are amazing and smart and so very funny. You make us proud every single day, and your smile can light up an entire room. I can’t believe it’s already been 10 years since we used to wrap you up in your favorite blanket like a little burrito. Now, that favorite blanket is still around, but it’s so well-loved that it’s in tatters, and MaMaw had to sew it inside another blanket just to keep it in tact.
Marissa, you look so grown up with your glasses, and now you almost always wear jeans and t-shirts, but I still remember all the ruffles and bows you had as a little girl. You may be growing up, but you’ll always be our little girl. We love you!
I’ll give you a guess. It wasn’t Mommy. And it rhymes with ‘Raddy.’
‘Someone’ attempted to make microwave popcorn for the slumber party this weekend. That ‘someone’ shall remain nameless, but let’s just say that this person clearly has never successfully made microwave popcorn before…EVER. Because, this was the result: