November can really be summed up in three syllables: last weekend. The rest of the month was great, but it can't beat four days of Christmas movies, leftovers, and apple pie (and Max all to myself!) We spent the weekend up in Salt Lake, staying overnight in our favorite hotel and seeing the lights on Temple Square. Minus the crowds, it's always so pretty.
Not pictured:
Earlier this year I thought I had found the deal of the century on a $2.50 baby turkey. If you know me, you know I capital LOVE/love turkey. I called my mom about this and she said there was no such thing. I insisted that there was, that it was currently sitting in my freezer, and when I showed her a picture, all I had to do was read the fine print: I had purchased a baby hen. I still have no comment.
To make matters worse, I called my mom just last week telling her of the good news again! I had really found a baby turkey this time! Since Max and I were spending Thanksgiving day with his family, we decided to have a mini-Thanksgiving dinner of our own the night before, and this baby turkey would be perfect.
Unfortunately, when I told my mom the good news, she reminded me (again) that there is no such thing as a baby turkey -- never has been, never will be. I told her she was wrong, I even checked it twice. It was indeed a baby turkey, perfect for two! So I went ahead with the preparations, thawed it the night before, got home from work ready to put it in the oven and... I had purchased processed turkey meat. I had no idea there was even such a thing. Little cubes of white and dark meat and I nearly fell over in my kitchen. It looked bad, real bad. My first thought was to cancel Thanksgiving, but I did what I always do and I called my mother. She told me I should never be allowed to go grocery shopping, and reminded me that I could always buy a fresh turkey (no thawing!) and still have it ready that night! So I ran to the store at four in the afternoon, picked up a real honest-to-goodness-turkey, and four hours later... we feasted.
And then I burned the pumpkin pie.
Our first Thanksgiving as a married couple was what I would call memorable. Alls well that ends well, I say.