I've been trying to get around to writing something new all week. Not enough time, though, so I thought I'd pull this one out of the last year's mothballs. It is definitely funny enough to be re-run!
Now I'm off to enjoy a day of food, family and fun with the biggest turkey a girl could ever fall head over heals in love with. May you be blessed enough to have even half as much to be thankful for.
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Hubby and I were married in April of 1981. By July I was pregnant with Twig. By September we had purchased our first home. That year we had an awesome Halloween party and were looking forward to our first holiday season.
Early in November, while Hubby was helping a friend drive to Minnesota and back, I went with my mom to see the Ice Capades. The last thing Hubby said before leaving was, “be careful on those steps at the event site.” Not wanting to worry my man or hurt my baby, I cautiously navigated the steps up to the doors of the arena and then further up to our seats. I even refused to drink anything while we were there for fear I might have to go back downstairs to pee!
When the show was over, Mom and I joined the rest of the throng exiting the building. There was so much excitement and everyone was chattering about the show – I didn’t see the steps until it was too late. Before I could catch myself, I’d missed the first step, lost my footing and landed on my butt on the hard concrete. Now, when I’m pregnant, I’M PREGNANT. Even though I was only about 4-1/2 months along I had already gained 38 lbs. and looked like I was concealing a small elephant under my shirt. So when I went down, everybody within a 5 foot circle stopped and tried to help. People were just kinder and more willing to get involved back then, weren’t they? But I digress… (Ever notice that the
Squirrel and I both seem to have a habit of doing that?? Go figure!)
As a result of my fall, I almost lost the baby and had to be on bed rest for an extended period of time. And THAT’S how Hubby ended up having to cook our first Thanksgiving dinner. Now, he was already a fairly good cook when we got married, but he’d never done a turkey before. I’d already tried to explain how to prepare it for the oven, but once he actually had to do it, things got interesting.
He didn’t want me to go into the kitchen to help because of the needing to keep my feet elevated thing, so we were yelling back and forth across the house:
HUBBY: How long am I supposed to cook this thing?
ME: How big is it?
HUBBY: About the size of your belly (snicker, snicker, snicker)
ME (laughing): No, silly, how much does it weigh? {Thinking – you better be glad I’m not the stereotypical pregnant woman, or you’d be wearing that dang thing as a hat right now!}
Once that was settled, it was time for him to go about preparing the critter for the oven.
HUBBY: Didn’t you say there was something stuck inside it?
ME: Yes. They put the neck, gizzard, heart, and some other junk in a bag inside the turkey.
HUBBY: Well, there’s nothing in here.
ME: Did you look good?
HUBBY: Yes. There’s nothing in there.
ME: You reached all the way in and felt around and there’s nothing?
HUBBY: YES – If I get any friendlier with it, it’ll be pregnant, too!!
Grateful that 2-1/2 year old Bug had gone to the lake with my parents, thus avoiding any interesting questions about how being friends could get the turkey pregnant, I turned over to take a nap while Hubby finished dinner.
Several hours later, the smell of good food roused me from my slumber. And since I was getting bedsores from laying there so much, I decided to defy orders and go check out how things were going in the kitchen. Hubby had just pulled the bird out of the oven and was in the process of slicing it when – you guessed it – he hit paper. Of course it was MY fault! I hadn’t told him that the turkey had TWO holes that he should be looking in.
For months after that, any time either of us lost something, the other always had to ask, “You looked everywhere, but
DID YOU CHECK BOTH HOLES??”
Wishing you empty holes, full bellies, and a VERY HAPPY THANKSGIVING!