I’m hosting the family for Thanksgiving this year – for the first time. I’ve had them for Easter on a few occasions, but Thanksgiving seems like a bigger deal. I’m lucky that my mother handed over all of her notes related to the meal, including a timeline for the week leading up to it. Doing the meal “right” (by which I mean all from scratch, no shortcuts, real deal) takes a lot of planning.
One of the things I must do tomorrow, according to her notes, is “wash” the turkey. I’ve been waiting for two weeks to make the following phone call (this morning).
“Hi, Mom. I have a quick question about the turkey. Do you wash it with dish soap or Comet or what?”
She didn’t miss a beat and said, “I like to use a combination of Lysol and bleach.” I was sort of hoping she’d stammer for a moment and say, “Uh, what?” but I’m also sort of relieved that she knew I was kidding.
Last night I saw a commercial that features a woman trying to wrestle a huge turkey she’d just rinsed out of the sink. She ends up dropping it multiple times, eventually shooting it out the window, hitting her husband on the head. I find it funny now – catch me in two days and see if I still find it amusing.