Why is it that when I say son #4 it's taken to mean I have 4 sons? This is child #4 who happens to be a Son. Merely a cultural language irregularity...which means I can just about get away with whatever harebrained explanation I come up with.
Seriously, though, I just mean the #4 child, a son who lives at home. As in the #3 child, a son who came home unexpectedly after I thought he was on his way away from home, and I got to love him with breakfast. And the #1 son who has attachment issues in spite of which, (being that he is reserved, reticent, restrained, and all manner of synonyms [they don't have to start with R] that I have 3x5's to file adjectives whenever I come up with more; except I can't find one right now but I have quite a collection) I know he loves me, too; and the #2 child, a daughter who is the heart next to mine.
So NOW, do you all get it? Because I have a more important issue at hand.
Which involves a fraud that I might need you to commit with me.
Maybe Fraud is too strong. What about Distraction? Too weak. Sleight of Hand? More apt. Except it involves a Turkey.
Not a big one, just 10 lbs.
How do I keep my husband from finding out that I have let this precious bird, bought at 97 [where is the cents key] cents per pound, ruin...because it has been thawed out since day before Thanksgiving and I have sworn by all manner of expertise accorded to me THAT IT IS ALRIGHT.
IT IS NOT. IT IS RUINED. SPOILED.
My idea is to do a Switch. As in get a fresh turkey, unwrap it in case there is brand recognition (not likely), somehow remove the Bad turkey, freeze it somewhere undetected (WHERE???) until garbage day, when I can stealthily (with a frozen fowl?) trudge to the can at the end of the driveway and get rid of the evidence... meanwhile, cook the New turkey...dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce... mesmerize Husband--and all is well.
Will he believe my contention that lo and behold, a thawed out turkey (18 days and counting), is still good to go? After all, he thought Martha Stewart was related to our neighbor Charles Stewart. I was holding forth at the stove while he read the paper there at the kitchen table; I was indignant that all of a sudden thread count mattered to the General Public. Just because Martha had made herself accessible to the Kmart shoppers. Egyptian Cotton? Well I was just building up to a roiling Right-to-be-a-Snob oratory when he looked up and after some time considering the gravity of my distress asked: "is she any kin to Charles next door?"
So, do you all think this dog will hunt?
Well I vote yes and I'm running with the ball. Which is a Mixed Metaphor according to Son#1. I bought the small McCormick Ground sage, and Thyme leaves; although I have always used fresh herbs in my dressing, with fraud you don't have to be so picky; and it's past Thanksgiving anyway. I just bought the Turkey to play with. Not Legos or Lincoln Logs, but brine then air-dry overnight (for crispy skin), or split and splay (for more uniform roasting), or dry salt, or dry rub, what have you; So What if I don't get to it in time and it SPOILS? A $10 waste against a $10 wonderful... an easy bet, not a bad loss, considering. But here I am, committing Fraud for a measly 10 bucks.
commiting?
committing?
I gotta learn Spell Check. I hear it's a real convenience compared to hauling out the Dictionary.
OK, that's a wrap.