And so it begins.
And it's all good! Turkey is ready to be stuffed. Ham is waiting in the wings. Potatoes, coleslaw, carrots, pickles and such are in the house. Buns and dessert coming with guests.
It's go time! I've got my game face on. Also my favourite t-shirt, because if you're cooking enough food to feed Liechtenstein confidence is everything, even if a teeny tiny part of me is hoping the whole skull and crossbones print thing isn't an omen.
Cue the power outage.
Bird has been in the oven for a couple of hours. Ham needs to go in. Bad, very bad. You kind of need electricity for this sort of thing.
Or do you?
Not when you have a gas barbeque, you don't. Plan B. Meat moved outside. Keeping in mind we usually use it to grill things not roast giant birds. But once again, it's all good.
Cue the gale force winds and rain.
Jack goes to check on things: Mumbles about a problem.
I ignore him because I just don't want to know.
Jack, rather desperately: "Karyn! We have a problem."
Chugs down drink: "What!?!"
Cue raging grease fire.
I like to think at this point even the unflappable Martha Stewart would become a bit flustered. We rush into action pelted by the wind and rain, which is not putting out the fire by the way! But it is doing a number on my hair. And yes, I care about those types of things. Fire is out and we save the f*@^#$g bird.
Bird transfered to back into a roaster, because I'm not using my embarrassingly-costly-I'm-never-doing-this-again new roaster on the BBQ. Deep breath. It's all good. Turkey is slightly mauled looking, but so are we.
Take nap, which seemed like a good idea at the time. I think it was a combination of exhaustion and booze.
Wake up. Remember the ham. Poor ham. At least it's not under done.
Still no power. Getting rather dark inside the house. Only going to get darker. Need to find candles. Time to let go of the fantasy of mashed potatoes and gravy. Light every single candle we own.
Power comes back on.
Just enough time to peel, cook, and mash potatoes. Deal with the carrots. Make the gravy. Turkey is very done, but by now so am I, and about to be carved.
Time to give thanks, eat and watch some baseball. Okay, I only watched because everyone else was, but still: GO BLUE JAYS!
Fall into bed exhausted. But thankful. Because now I have a story to tell.