I mean, I’ve never been in charge of a turkey before. And since our Thanksgiving is the most intimate ever, I bought the smallest turkey ever. Almost a medium-ish chicken.
So, since I’ve never been in charge of a turkey, I didn’t know what color it should be or what it should smell like. I mean, I assumed it’s generally gross. And it was.
But it seemed more gross than necessary. And also a greenish gray. And it smelled… profound.
I double bagged it and took it right back to the grocery store, where the lady behind the customer service counter looked visibly alarmed. First of all because of the green-gray bird situation, and secondly because she wasn’t sure they had anything within a tri-county area that was a) less than twenty pounds, b) not frozen, and c) not sliced sandwich meat.
We’re having a heat-and-serve situation, compliments of the brilliant lady behind the deli counter who saved Thanksgiving and maybe all of 2020.
Also, Tyler made a most glorious layered jello with every color of the rainbow. It took him two days. We cut it to make sure it was truly perfection, and we took a photo of the true perfection. And then I said, “Pal, remember put some plastic wrap over it before you put it in the fridge.” And the plastic wrap promptly pulled off his top three layers. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth.
I learned this year that there’s a difference between Thankful and Grateful.
Thankful is a feeling of pleasure with a sense of relief.
Grateful is a flow of gratitude with a sense of kindness.
This year is a season of Both/And, frumpy Jello and heatable-turkey notwithstanding.
At least we still have the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
And my mom’s pumpkin pie.
Don’t mess with these, please.
Happy Thanksgiving, you buncha’ Turkeys. I love you and your gobblers.