Thanksgiving Humor

     With trepidation, I pulled the portly bird in its wrapped packaging from the refrigerator yesterday morning.  I laid it upon the counter, eyeing up the name Butterball.  "Yes," I thought, "very appropriate."  I set to work, with surgical precision cutting the wrapper from the body.  I was expecting a demon-possessed entity looking back at me.  All I saw was a white, plump body of a turkey.  Nothing to be frightened of.
     I donned thin, latex gloves.  No way I was going to stick my hands up into the cavity of this thing.  I'm supposed to pull out what?  Hmmm, so far, so good.  I found the necessary innards to remove:  turkey neck, very ugly; some package of red, squishy things I didn't even want to know what they were.  Okay, it was going well.  With salt shaker in hand, I began to wash, even scrub the bird inside, outside, under wings and over legs.  When the thing was practically squeaky clean, I began speaking to it.  Now, this is not a normal thing for me.  I talk to my cats on occasion, and they love me for it.  I sing crazy songs to them while they look up at me, love clearly written on their feline faces.  But I felt it necessary to address the bird.  Tell it some stories about what a pretty thing it was, how good it was going to look after it was baked, and just some all around general chit chat.  Hubby didn't even glance up from some work he was doing at our kitchen table.  I asked him about that today.  His answer:  "I didn't even notice."
     Does this mean it's normal then for me to speak out to inanimate objects?  Has he become so immune to this type of behavior from me he barely notices?  Perhaps.
     This was only the third turkey I've prepared in my lifetime, you see.  The thing just intimidates me.  I worry it won't be cooked thoroughly.  I worry on how to get it out of the oven when it's done.  I worry over gravy-making, carving, the list goes on and on.
     Let me tell you, though.  When all was said and done yesterday, the meal was great.  Turkey was handled with care, gravy came out fine, even hubby got into the act and did the carving.  My eight guests were pleased and even went so far as to congratulate me on one of the most moist turkeys they had eaten.
     Phew, glad it's all over for now.  Until next year, or next holiday.....Perhaps the ham at Christmastime will hear some entertaining story from me as I prepare it.  At least the cats will be sitting at my feet, waiting for scraps to fall.  Waiting for me to sing some crazy song lovingly to them.