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Tuesday, Nov 22, 2005
Turkey
I walked into the kitchen at work while the potluck was being set up. Folks were wondering out loud who would carve the turkey. Actually, turkeys. So I volunteered.
I still hadn't gotten through an avalanche of email this morning, but I couldn't let the turkeys just sit there when I've got the mad skillz.
"Carving the turkey" is a misnomer. Sure, there's some carving of the breast meat, but mostly it's "disassembly of the turkey." I tried to be dainty at first, using a not-sharp-enough knife, a little plastic fork, and a pair of tongs. But as I got to the dark meat of the first turkey, I was up to my elbows in turkey juice. Ain't no way to get that back meat without getting in there with your hands.
The meal is done. My mail box is still calling me. My hands, despite a couple washings, still smell of roasted turkey. And I feel like taking a nice snooze.