Let’s define Thanksgiving. It means to give thanks, right? It’s a day to remember what we’re thankful for in our lives, and to honor it. To surround ourselves with family, love, and football? Wait just a minute. When did football become a part of Thanksgiving? And sure…I’m thankful for my family, and for love, and for the internet, and all that good stuff. But isn’t Thanksgiving about turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes? Pie…and hot rolls, and more pie? I’m not knocking the whole “give thanks” thing. I want to give thanks. But I want the food too.
Today marks a week to go. A week to go before I’d better have everything I need for the yearly feast. And so far, I have nothing. Not even a list of what I need. Hubby and I haven’t even come to an agreement about who lives or dies.
Put down the phone. No need to call in the authorities, I’m not planning an execution…well…not a human one anyway. And for the record, I’m not the one planning to kill anyone, or anything. I want to buy my turkey already dead, like everyone else does. I don’t want to knock off one of my little farm creatures as a sacrifice to the Thanksgiving gods, or whatever. But the hubby? Oh, he has something evil up his sleeves, and I’m on a mission to stop him.
But is it Clooney, the resident cock, who’s neck is on the chopping block? (Yes, I rhymed) Why no, it’s not. My husband has it out for one of the ducks, and I feel like I’m trapped in another Looney Tunes episode with Elmer Fudd, and this time, it’s duck season.
I don’t like duck, by the way. Hate it. It’s greasy. It’s fatty. It’s all dark meat. And I’m not eating it, even if he cooks it. The year he had the brilliant plan to cook a rabbit (again, not my idea) I steered clear of the bunny too. When it comes to Thanksgiving, I’m a traditionalist. I want turkey. That’s it. No ducks, no rabbits, no Bambi. But the husband? He likes to experiment. And that usually means trouble.
So my mission, if I choose to accept it, is to not only make a grocery list of what we need for Thanksgiving, but also to keep my husband occupied long enough for the ducks to be taken off the table, both figuratively and literally. With a ten day vacation coming up for him, that task will be more difficult than it sounds. But I never back away from a challenge…unless it involves dancing…or waxing…or jumping out of a plane…ok, I run from lots of challenges but I won’t run from this one. Little ducky, I’ve got your back.
Until the next time…I’ll be shopping for turkey and the trimmings!