How That Man Saved Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I am thankful...that it's done!

No, really, I love Thanksgiving.  We invite a bunch of relatives, I cook up a storm, we eat, we talk, That Man takes pictures, we study the Black Friday sale ads...  It's fun!

But sometimes our Thanksgivings are, um, eventful.

One year, long ago, when That Boy was two, and That Girl wasn't at all, he had chicken pox.  Needless to say, we didn't have any company for the holiday, and we didn't go anywhere.  I prepared a private feast for the three of us.  I had baked yeast rolls, my timing wasn't the best, they came out of the oven before everything else was ready, so I put them on one of the stove burners, turned on super low.

When That Man took the first bite of a roll, he said, "These rolls are burned."  I picked one up, turned it over and over, examined a couple more, and pronounced, "No they aren't.  Just look at them."  He swore they were and challenged me to eat one.  I took a bite.

Oh,  My.  Gosh.  They were TERRIBLE.  No apparent burning, but the interior was definitely smoke-damaged!

This event became a running joke - "Don't burn the rolls!"

That was the worst Thanksgiving for a LONG time.  But the past two years, I've managed to have stove top fires, from things boiling over and going up in flames.

So the new running joke became, "Be sure to invite the Fire Department!"

I'm pleased to report we had no fires this year!

However...

There are always floods.

Oh me.

That Girl and The Grands arrived Tuesday evening.  While I pumped up the inflatable kid bed, the Girl Grand watched The Spongebob Movie on TV.  Suddenly, sound, but no picture!  "Turn it back on, Grandma!" she demaned, loudly (several times), as I tried to troubleshoot the problem.

No luck.

After the bed was arranged and the child installed, I alerted That Man.  He volunteered to buy a replacement the following day.

Yes, please!  Saved!!!

I follow a written Thanksgiving schedule I made several years ago so everything gets done on time and I don't have to figure it all out every year, so most of the things that could be made before The Day were made.

Wednesday came, That Man went shopping for the new TV, and That Girl and I got busy.  We made a cranberry gelatin salad and pumpkin pies.  We had bean soup and cornbread for lunch.  We boiled eggs.  I worked on the last minute cleaning.  It was going so well.

We REALLY like deviled eggs, so we decided to cook TWO dozen eggs instead of one, and after I peeled all those eggs, I put the shells down the garbage disposer, instead of into the trash.  That smell.  Down they went, but after I turned off the disposer, water started backing up into the sink.

NO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!

I trudged upstairs where That Man was connecting the new TV.  I confessed my transgression ("You're going to kill me, but...").  He sighed and said he'd have a look.  That Girl, The Grands, and I made a dash to The Colonel's for a bucket of chicken.

Well.

When we returned, the kitchen looked like he had detonated a bomb!  Everything that had been under the sink was out on the floor or on the counter.  Water and wet towels were everywhere.

That Man, bless his heart, had tried to clear the drain with a plunger.  He produced enough pressure to blow a pipe joint apart, spewing water and bits of egg shell all over the kitchen and into the adjacent carousel base cabinet.  He cleaned up the worst of the flood, unclogged the drain, and reassembled the drain before we reappeared bearing fried chicken.

Saved again!!!  You just can't do Thanksgiving without a functional kitchen sink.

After chicken, I sent That Man, That Girl, and The Grands to bed, took over, and started cleaning.  I washed, dried, and replaced all the stuff from the cabinets, sopped up the rest of the water on the floor, and mopped, and mopped, and mopped.

It took HOURS.  Ugh.

Thursday, THE day, dawned.  I got up, showered, and started work on the turkey.  I always buy the cheapest turkey I can find, and they usually come with a pop-up timer.  I cut off the netting and the bag, pulled out the bag of giblets and the neck, and...where the heck was the pop-up timer?  I checked the packaging - yes, it said it had a pop-up timer.  There was a hole where it obviously HAD been, but, alas, no timer.

Several years ago, I had bought some pop-up timers (yes, you can actually buy them in the store!), just in case I got stuck with a turkey without one.  So I rummaged through the junk drawer, but they were apparently either previously used or AWOL.  So, That Man came to my rescue again!  He ran out to the nearest grocery store and bought a couple of packages of pop-up timers.  I stuck a timer in the hole, and got the turkey into the oven.  Big sigh of relief!

Saved yet AGAIN!!!  What would I do without him?

From that point on, I sailed through the day fairly smoothly.  The pop-up timer did its job, all the food was good, and everyone enjoyed themselves.  I didn't start putting food away and cleaning up until the extra people had gone.  I was almost done cleaning up the sink, turned on the garbage disposer, and...what's that terrible racket???

Turned off the disposer, stuck my hand into its ravenous maw, and pulled out...the missing pop-up timer!