Round One is Officially Under the Belts We Just Loosened

I have waddled into the home office here, because Round One of the Thanksgiving Feast-a-thon has been completed.

Hubs and I had my parents, along with Sister and Sister’s Husband and their kids, and our friends, Peggy and Jenna, over for dinner tonight. And really? It was a little bit more than dinner.

It was a buffet worthy of any cruise ship, laid out there in all its holy glory, right there on my kitchen island.

Hubs and I both had jobs to do today, in preparation for the enormous meal and gathering of our people.

My jobs were to vacuum the house, mop the house, scrub the bathrooms down, scrub the turkey juices and subsequent salmonella virus off my kitchen counters from ALL THE RAWNESS OF THE MEAT that was once there, throw in a couple loads of laundry, make some mashed potatoes and corn, and turn some boiled eggs into deviled egg delicacies.

Hubs’ job was to yank a 22-pound turkey out of a five-gallon bucket of brine and put it on his Traeger grill. Then his job consisted of walking out onto the deck every twenty minutes or so and shouting out, “HOLY COW! THIS TURKEY IS GOING TO BE AMAZING! COME AND LOOK AT MY BIRD!” And then, the difficult part of Hubs’ day was to run to the sporting goods store and purchase a GRILL THERMOMETER, where one part goes (where else?) inside the grill, and the other part (and this is the coolness factor!) clips onto your belt, so that you can TOTALLY CONTROL THE HEAT OF THE GRILL FROM THE COMFORTS OF YOUR BELT LOOPS, just so long as you’re within 100 yards or so of the grill. Hubs walked around the house (while I was sweating and mopping, I might add), and announced, “I have a thermometer remote control clipped to my belt loop! I have the power to turn the temperature of the grill up or down and see how hot my bird is, while I’m sitting in the house!” And then, Hubs went back out to look at his turkey, where he exclaimed again, “HOLY COW! THIS TURKEY IS GOING TO BE AMAZING!”

Clearly, one of us had a little harder work to do than the other.

While Hubs was sprawled on the sofa, though, reading the instructions on his remote-controlled grill thermometer, I did walk by and let loose the Wife Sigh. (More on the Wife Sigh can be found here, on Cody’s blog:

The Wife Sigh is a special super power, in which you sigh dramatically, but not too loudly. It’s basically a quiet, poor me sigh, in which you inflate your lungs to their full oxygen-holding capacity, and then slowly release.

The Wife Sigh should never be abused or used too often, because then the recipient will become bored with it, and the power will be lost.

When Hubs heard the Wife Sigh, he quickly folded up the twelve-foot-square piece of paper that was the instructions to his thermometer, grabbed the tub of Clorox wipes, and totally scrubbed the master bathroom down.

Bless him.

I have put the Wife Sigh away for a while now, and I probably won’t get it back out until mid-summer again, so that it’s power remains solid.

When the house sparkled and the turkey had finished smoking, the people began to arrive.

Hubs and I were on our best behavior, too, because listen to this! College Town, of which I am an alumni and dues-paying supporter to this very day, is on a bit of a football losing streak. We are unranked. Teams made up of 3rd and 4th graders could probably beat College Town at this point. No matter. We continue to cheer for them and wear their colors on Saturdays, because we are crazy die-hards like that.

Sister’s Husband went to College Land, which is a hop, skip and a jump, straight across the border, from College Town. College Town and College Land have a Border War going, and have for an endless string of years. I like College Land about as well as I like cottage cheese and Brussels sprouts.

Which is, you know, NOT AT ALL!

And Sister’s Husband is a College Land alumni.


And on Saturday, College Town put the holy smack down on College Land!

A smack in the form of FORTY-FOUR TO ZERO, people.

I know! I was giddy with the happiness, and the fact that my very own College Town, who is almost completely unable to win a single football game this year, pulled it together and wiped their noses on the jerseys of the College Land players.

Did I mention FORTY-FOUR TO ZERO??!

Because yes! Forty-four points on our side of the scoreboard, and absolutely no points (zip, zilch, and zero!) on College Land’s side of that same scoreboard.

And when I went to church on Sunday morning, I lost no time whatsoever seeking out Sister’s Husband to mention the game, and then I managed to laugh with an insanity which is usually reserved for old Alfred Hitchcock movies.

Yes; yes, I did. Right there in the sanctuary of church.

And tonight, when Sister and Sister’s Husband came over and joined us for dinner, I mentioned NOT A WORD of College Land’s horrid upset. I am quite proud of the restraint which I demonstrated.


As for the turkey, it turned out to be THE MOST AWESOME BIT OF COOKED POULTRY EVER TO GRACE A TABLE SINCE THE PILGRIMS STARTED THE TRADITION! Sweet mercy, but it was some very fine turkey goodness! I’m not sure that it could have turned out any more perfect than it did, so clearly all the work that Hubs invested into his continual every-twenty-minutes checks and shouting about how wonderful it looked paid off.

Hubs and his smoking abilities were golden today, y’all. Just golden.

We all sat around our big dining room table, and we talked and we cackled with laughter, and oh my! It was just so fun! The evening couldn’t have gone any better.

Only it did get better, because eventually the cute neighbor boy migrated into our house, and he and the boy displayed their crazy mad magic skillz for the crowd of overly-stuffed people sitting around our kitchen and living room, and everyone applauded like mad for them.

David Copperfield, you have some competition!

And now, with Round One done, we will venture over to Hubs’ parents’ house tomorrow, where the eating (Round Two) will commence.

And, before I close out this blog post tonight, I just have to tell you of the sadness that was this morning. Hubs and I attended a funeral for an eighteen-year-old boy today, who was in my PE class for years when he was a tiny mite, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve been through. I wept with sheer grief as his family walked into the packed church, with their swollen, red eyes and broken hearts, and sat down in the packed sanctuary.

People, I cannot fathom the grief involved with losing a child, so on this Thanksgiving weekend, cuddle your kids close. Love them and tell them how much you adore them. Squeeze them with big, fat hugs; tickle them; pinch their cheeks; hold them close.

And be sure to remind your kids how thankful you are for them.

Happy Thanksgiving Weekend.

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