While the kids were eating their breakfast, I started the preparation on our turkey. We had soaked it in a brine the night before, and I had to grab it out of a bucket of broth and spices before I could do anything else to it. Yuck. I don't generally consider myself a squeamish person, I was a CNA all through college and pretty much lost my gag reflex through that kind of work. I took Anatomy and it's corresponding cadaver lab. I once asked Brett to hand me a liver. Even when I was pregnant, I threw up once, maybe twice both times. Raw turkeys though? NASTY. They smell gross and they're all cold and clammy with weird bumpy skin, which the fact that the skin is still attached kicks the gross factor into an entire new realm. *Shudder* It took a little longer than I'd planned to get the sucker prepped and in the oven,(mostly due to the breaks where I would do full-body shivers and scream like a little girl...) but once it was done I thought it was pretty good for my first turkey. :)
This was our entire feast (minus the stuffing, which we totally forgot about until after we took this picture). Note the giant bowl of mashed potatoes. Brett didn't think we needed so many, that may have been due to the fact that he was the one mashing all of them, but nonetheless, I asked him to mash every last one of them. Both my parents are from Idaho, my grandpa was a potato farmer. The love of potatoes is in my DNA, OF COURSE WE NEED ALL THOSE POTATOES! Especially the mashed variety. When I was about 9 or 10 my sister had her boyfriend over for dinner, and I took my usual massive portion of mashed potatoes. For some reason I don't remember, this fellow (whom I still harbor some strong dislike for even though I don't remember his name) told me I had too many and took some of mine. And ate them. HE ATE MY POTATOES. What the WHAT??? Not cool, dude, not cool. Sidenote to Mindy: Thanks for not marrying the guy :) Children's-potato-stealing is a bad mark on one's character.
Wow, ok, I admit, I'm a little overzealous about my potatoes. Jason seems to have inherited my potato-loving because between the two of us, we polished off that entire bowl by Saturday afternoon.
While Brett hurried to make the forgotten stuffing, I snapped some pictures of the kids, who were sitting quietly at the table, and that just never happens and needed to be documented.
|Jason and his duck, "Duckling" who was also hungry for turkey. Duckling became a partner in crime for everything Jason didn't want to eat. "But Mom, I can't eat my salad, Duckling wants it!"|
|"Feed me or I'll start banging these utensils on the table."|