...Just me attacking a ten-pound (deceased) turkey with a pliers for what seemed like half an hour but probably wasn't. Grownuphood, good grief. They don't tell you life is gonna involve turkey wings full of sheared-off quill stubs. Not that life doesn't also involve worse. I'm just saying.
Apart from which, wishing everyone a very lovely day off, supposing you've got one, and condolences to our British and Canadian friends who haven't.
[P.S. Am now less cranky, more awake, and discovering I nearly forgot the sacrament of "Alice's Restaurant". Wishing a pleasant day to all.]
Posted by Martha Bridegam at November 24, 2005 10:44 AMWhat turkey?
Most of us don't have to pluck our turkeys.... which makes me suspicious you sprung for the free range, organic turkey.
But I hate to stereotype, so I suppose you could have shot a wild turkey that needed plucking like some of our acquaintances in rural Virginia.
There. Never say you have nothing in common with rural, gun-toting, red staters. You each have to pluck turkeys.
Posted by: Sara Brumfield at December 2, 2005 08:41 PMIf you must know, it was a badly processed turkey, billed as kosher and free range and vegetarian but not organic. Funny, time was it was a conservative thing not to hold with them newfangled chemical feeds and fertilizers and to want a good old bird raised the good old-fashioned way.
But, may I ask, why do your acquaintances in rural Virginia need plucking?
Posted by: Martha Bridegam at December 2, 2005 10:25 PM