in search of the perfect po

One day last week I came home from work to find my husband seated at the kitchen table busily peeling one potato after another. I quickly noticed he was surrounded by no less than four bags of different potato types and yep, all your standard varieties were present - russet, red, white and yukon gold.

This was to be the next stage of his unfulfilled quest to recreate the perfect Grandma Potato.

There had already been one attempt this holiday season. There are usually four to five attempts throughout the year. It’s his quest. Like the Holy Grail or multiple orgasms for men.

It seems his Grandmother used to make these roasted potatoes that would induce a foodgasm of flavor when they all got together for holiday dinners. The menu consisted of roast beef, green beans, gravy and the ultimate golden tender roasted potato. These potatoes are legendary. At every family gathering that involves sitting down with food, the conversation inevitably turns to the collective memory of how wonderful these potatoes were. Here’s where I could insert some comment about the Irish and potatoes but that would be rude and I’m not that clever so I’ll just say that it's usually fun chatting about the nostalgic memories of foods from our childhood. I have some food memories of my Grandmother’s cooking as well, but they tend to travel along the lines of the two weeks I spent in the hospital with Salmonella food poisoning from something my Grandmother fed me and the fact that she used to store bacon grease in an old coffee can that she stashed in the refrigerator for months and months and used liberally in everything she cooked. It’s no wonder my cholesterol level is high.

My husband has been trying to make these Grandma Potatoes since we moved in together and cooked our first roast beef. As yet, we have been unable to achieve the tender golden succulence of the Grandma Potato. But he is determined and we try and try.

During Christmas Eve dinner with his parents, the feasts of yore that included these tender tubers was lamented and someone brought up the type of roasting pan she might have used and whether this piece of the puzzle was instrumental to the outcome. My Father-in-Law, uber-pack rat that he is, bless his frugal Irish soul, mentioned that he thought his mother’s old roaster was in the basement. Of course it was. Within a few minutes my husband came up the stairs victoriously cradling this big ass speckled enameled roasting pan. This thing is huge. I swear it would roast a whole pig. With room for a side of lamb. Wanna know where it is now?

As we were planning on making Roast Beef for Christmas day dinner with my sister and her family, and as we now had possession of the Grandma Roaster, which in all honesty is pretty cool as I remember one similar, albeit slightly smaller, that my Mom used to make meatloaf, it was the perfect opportunity to recreate the Grandma Potato. How could we fail? I mean the pan, right? The magic key. It had to be.

With loving devotion to the taste memory, my guy arranged a giant slab of cow and the potatoes carefully in the ginormous roaster and set it to cook. Several hours later the yummy artery clogging hunk of beef emerged with caramel colored roasted potatoes nestled alongside. They looked like Grandma Potatoes. They smelled like Grandma Potatoes. But did they taste like Grandma Potatoes?

Alas, they did not.

Fast forward one week. Another hunk o’Cow and 4 bags of potatoes.

My guy figured that if he cooked several different types all at once maybe he’d find the right combination of potato and beef and he would reproduce the Grandma Potato, finally after so many years trying.

Once again, close but not quite.

I don’t know the secret to the Grandma Potato. Truly, she seems to have taken the secret with her when she passed as my Mother-in-Law doesn’t know it, nor does her husband. So, Internets, if any of you know the secret to producing the perfect roasted potato that emerges from the pan golden and slightly crispy on the outside, yet soft and tender on the inside, with that perfect Grandma Potato flavor, please pass it on. Please? I’m afraid the next step will involve trying to track down the stove that was used to cook them.

holiday brain scramble

Just in case you were hiding in a cave for the past few months, Christmas is in like 2 days. TWO DAYS! I know, it snuck up on me too. I hate when that happens. I'm cruising along thinking there are long leisurely weeks left to do all the to-do's and then BLAM someone asks me if we're all ready for Christmas and I go NAH! there's plenty of time and they give me that look - you know the one- the look that clearly says I've had too many glasses of wine for lunch and reminds me that the big day is nigh on hand and the sound that I hear is the sucking of air through my brain as my head implodes.

Between setting up the Christmas tree - only the bottom half of the pre-lit tree is actually lit Thank You Blown Fuse two weeks later, the daily work schedule and the holiday lunches that may or may not have involved multiple glasses of wine, I feel completely unprepared for this Christmas. I can only thank whatever Gods are listening that my husband is the Uber-Shopper and took care of covering my ass by making the majority of shopping decisions and I will reward him with various sexual favors for being such a stand-up guy and doing all the Christmas shopping.

I did manage buy his present but it has not arrived yet which means I'm going to drive to Canada soon and gleefully beat someone for NOT BEING EFFICIENT this holiday mailing season. Two weeks is plenty of time to ship something from Canada, isn't it? IT SHOULD BE. By the way, I don't know about you but my husband? Is really really hard to buy gifts for and every year I drive myself further over the sanity cliff with this. Am I the only debilitated spousal shopper out there? Please tell me I'm not because that just makes me a lame ass.

There are many nights I'm out at school board meetings and, without fail, when I come home there is a note from my daughter placed in such a way that I CAN NOT miss its presence. She'll use a small t.v. table, prop a notebook on some object and leave it right inside the door so I just about trip over it on my way into the house. These notes ask me how my day was, tell me that she loves me, demands that I go in to hug & kiss her even if she is asleep and they are always signed "You're favorite Little Girl". It's a pretty nice welcome home after a long day. She's been adding the Christmas countdown for the past few because you know, PRESENTS! 

I don't know if she still believes in Santa. I've been afraid to ask, but she wrote a letter the other day so she was either appeasing us or is still holding on to the belief of a little magic. I hope it's the latter, because if my magic loving favorite little girl to push aside Santa for the cold hard reality of online shopping, well that might just break my heart a little. There is still a belief in magic because when she heard about the possibility of snow this weekend, she mapped out what night would be the most promising to perform the snow dance. I think maybe we're safe with the Santa thing for a while.

My son sends me texts asking when I'll pick him up and if I can give him another twenty bucks. I should tell him never and no. Just to see what he says. He definitely doesn't believe in Santa any more and I get that, but he could at least pretend so I can pretend that my oldest is not about to start driving next year and I can keep him swaddled and safe.

Simple dog (read this, and you should because it is one of the funniest things ever) came home from an overnight stay in the kennel this weekend and has since taken up residence in an area of the kitchen that is most strategic for a)watching all food preparation for possible spillage recovery. Recovery being down her gaping maw. b)easy access to doors in case someone tries to escape without her knowing. c)The kitchen is the farthest place from any overnight bag that might be packed which would send her into a frenzy of panic at the possibility that the humans would leave again and she will never see her food bowl or my daughters bed again. I had to go pick up the boy from practice the other day and the dog damn near bowled me over as she bolted through the front door and tried to climb into the closed car window because she is that determined that NO ONE leaves WITHOUT her. EVER AGAIN.

This year I rejected the whole Christmas card pressure. There was no way I was going to find time to get them done so I just bagged the whole thing. I'm standing by the whole less is more thing this year so I'm sending out lots of Holiday wishes to everyone Telepathically and will make a bunch of phone calls for that up close and personal touch but I refuse to feel guilty for not sending out Christmas cards. Not even E-cards.

So for those that come and visit here Happy Holidays! For those that don't your telepathically delivered message will be arriving shortly, please tune into the appropriate frequency.

BOOK EARS Bookish Holiday Gift Guide

First ever Book Ears Holiday Gift Guide for the young adult and middle grade readers in your life!

Got book?

http://bookears.blogspot.com/2010/12/bookish-things-for-christmas-gifting.html

blooms of christmas

This right here is your standard issue Christmas Cactus, a plant I knew very little about until I looked it up, and now I know just enough about it that it’s best served staying exactly where it is, which is in the main hallway of my In-Law’s house, being properly tended by my Mother-in-Law, who manages to keep houseplants alive. A feat that seems beyond my scope, except for two variegated pathos plants my husband and I received as cuttings from the one my Godmother Marie had that was easily fifteen years old when she lopped some pieces off and handed them to me the day we moved out of her house and into our own. I pull that thing back from the brink of death several times a year and am ever so thankful its strength to survive outweighs my neglectful ministrations.

This one Christmas Cactus makes me smile every time there's a new flower bud visible. Which is also why I leave it in the care of my mother-in-law as I really don’t want to be the cause of its demise.

This plant was my mom’s. She received a cutting of it from my sister and nurtured it for several years. When my parents moved into a smaller apartment she decided not to take her plants due to space constraints and left them outside their old house for the trash men to pick them up.

About two weeks after my parents were fully moved into their new place I had to go by the old one to make certain it was all cleared out and closed up tight. When I walked through the empty house and out the back door there were all her plants, withered and wilted in big colorful pots on elegant metal stands baking under the summer sun. They looked so pathetic, so wretchedly sad and lonely that I just couldn’t leave them there. Sighing, I stuffed them into the back of my car and drove away, wondering if I was just prolonging the inevitable.

On a stroke of pure genius, I brought them to my In-Law’s house because they have this great sunroom with windows on all sides and I figured the plants had a better chance at survival under my Mother-in-law’s nurturing than with me.

She cut back and repotted a few of the plants more egregiously damaged after their stint outside in the harsh summer heat and propped up the Christmas Cactus hoping it would survive the rest of the week, as it looked like it was a goner, all shriveled and browned and losing stems.

The other plants lived and thrived and grew. The Christmas Cactus managed to limp along, recovering slowly and produced a couple of sickly looking flowers that fall but didn’t bloom in full.

That January my mother became very ill after back surgery and remained hospitalized for six months before succumbing to a septic infection from MRSA. Within two months of her death my father was diagnosed with aggressive cancer and fought for two and a half years before the cancer took its toll. He died during the month of December after missing his wife every day of his struggle.

During this time, the Christmas Cactus held on but didn’t show a single flower bud, not once.

Several days after my father passed away, buds began to appear on every end leaf and by Christmas this plant was in full bloom with vibrant plump fuscia colored flowers weighing the stems down to spill over the sides.

My mother-in-law was incredulous at the sudden change in its appearance. As we sat down that Christmas Eve, sadness and grief weighing my heart down, she pointed out the mass of glossy pink flowers and shining green leaves that seemed to glow from the Christmas tree lights.

“You see that?” she asked me, as I tried to smile at the festivities around me “those flowers were waiting for your parents to be together again and you should look at that and know in your heart that your Mom and Dad are with each other and happy again, just like they always wanted to be. That plant hasn’t bloomed since your Mom died and your Dad so sad without her. Look at how full and beautiful those flowers are and know that they are smiling together and love you.”

This cactus has bloomed every season since, sometimes more than twice a year, heavy with flowers. And every time I see this plant I think about what my mother-in-law said and smile, because in my heart, where it counts, I know she’s right.

Wind and the Pillow for Peace or how I spent my $25 HomeGoods Gift Card

Usually when I go shopping with my son it’s because he needs something, or he’s managed to bribe and/or blackmail me into some bit of foolishness. This time he came with me because he was a hostage in my car on my trip to HomeGoods, to make use of the $25 gift card from the HomeGoods and BlogHer promotion.

The task: Find a lovely gift, or gifts, for someone for $25.00 or less and tell everyone about it.

My goal: Find something for my sister to make her smile.

With my reluctant shopping companion trailing behind me, we strolled along the aisles, taking in the variety of merchandise displayed on shelves just bursting with color and form. I didn’t know what I wanted, not specifically, but figured when I saw the one thing, I would know.

My son, the one who didn’t want to come shopping, saw the one thing he knew would make a great gift for his sister. Colorful Peace sign wall decals for her newly renovated room for only $5.99. He found a winner as the colors were right in line with his sister's favorites and they were unique, just like her.

Several more aisles in and several items had called to me for my sister. And then once again my son, the one who did not want to shop, came across a soft as cloud body pillow in bold aqua blue chenille and thought that this would be a great Christmas present. For him. He was also right for only $16.99. Is it wrong to buy a kid a Christmas present right in front of their face and then stash it away until Christmas day? I think not.

And the perfect gift for my sister? I brushed up against a windchime, one I hadn't noticed while browsing, but when the music from the chimes rang out, I knew that was it. A beautiful metal scrollwork support with long silver tubes with a metal curled leaf pendant. It was perfect for her front porch, where the bay breeze would set it to play and let the music filter through her windows on a summer day. The windchime purchase put me over the $25.00 gift card value, but at $16.99, it was a great value for the right gift.

Thanks to HomeGoods and BlogHer I was able to add to the holiday gift haul from the great selection of products available at HomeGoods.

can someone get me my bunny slippers?

The nosh fest is over and I think I overloaded on turnips. But yummmmm, so who cares.

I will be dedicatedly sitting at my desk and working this morning even though I'd prefer to be keeping my couch still by plopping my ass on it for most of the day and demanding that my children wait on me.

There is no force on the planet that would compell me to spend any time at all in a store, or mall, or any shopping facility whatsoever thankyouverymuch today. I spent four years working the mine fields of Black Friday from the retailer side, and while it was in a bookstore, which do not seem to stir up the frenzy that electronics and toys do, those years contained early mornings and long days and crazy customers and I prefer doing most of my shopping online these days. Or letting my personal shopper, my husband, do it for me because he likes it more than I do and has the patience to hunt up the ult deal. I'll tell you all about the latest super deal he found but it has to be after the holidays in case someone who should not know about it manages to read this. (I'm looking at you, kid!)

So, those of you brave enough to crawl out from under the covers at some butt crack of the morning to save some dough, I hope your hunting is successful. There's only a couple of things that would drag me out and one of them would have to be Mark Harmon. Nothing else is really worth it.

Going to inhale more caffeine now.

Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving Day! To one and all.

While we gobble down calorie laden appetizers, stuff ourselves silly on main courses and overload on sumptious desserts, I plan on giving thanks for the abundance we are furtunate to have and wishes for those that are not so fortunate.

To Those I love,
Those that love me,
Those that no longer sitting beside me at the holiday table,
Those that have no one to sit besides them,
Those that are struggling,
Those that are fortunate,
Those that are seving our country in far off lands

You are all in my thoughts this day and all others.

Happy Thanksgiving.

convection withrdrawal

Thanksgiving is coming up and I find myself faced with the task of cooking a turkey in the oven. I haven’t cooked a turkey in a regular oven in almost 14 years. That’s a long time, folks. I’m not sure I remember how that’s all supposed to work. I mean, am I going to have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn to shove this bird in the cooker and baste it throughout the day and hope like hell it’s cooked through by dinner time without burning the skin to cinders? If so, I hope someone’s going to supply me with the necessary inducements. Say a new jug of apple cider and a fresh bottle of bourbon? I’d like some cinnamon swizzle sticks with that, please.

Last year, courageously limping its way it through Thanksgiving dinner preparations, our favorite kitchen baby, the Farberware T4850 convection oven which we had lovingly used for years, finally called it quits with a gurgle and wheeze in the last hour of turkey cooking. I’m still in mourning. So is my husband. I find him trolling the internet looking for a suitable replacement and sighing pitifully whenever he realizes the crappy size constraints of the wussy microwave/convection combo’s listed everywhere. Unless we buy something in the commercial line, all the convection ovens he finds barely fit a 10 pound chicken let alone the 20 pound turkey we often cooked in the T4850. What is up with that?

This thing was no microwave/convection combo wanna be. It was a beast in size, straight up convection cooker. Took up considerable counter space but I never begrudged it its space, because oh it was so good to us. Damn you Farberware for discontinuing this line of convection oven. Damn you. YOu could have at least given us the chance to buy every last one of these you had available before you closed up the supply line.

We cooked just about everything in that T4850. Chicken, Turkey, Duck, Pork, Beef, roasted vegetables, baked potatoes, pizza, and the list goes on. Why did we use the convection oven so much? Because it cooked everything to perfection and cut the cooking time by at least a third.

A THIRD people! With full time jobs, crazy schedules, two kids and an aversion to hours at the stove, the time saved with this thing was priceless. The roast beefs were juicy and succulent, the chickens golden and tender, you see where I’m going with this right? The first time I roasted a chicken in the standard oven after the Farberware T4850 died, it was dry as dust.

The only thing I didn’t use it for was baking. And that was more me than it. I’m lucky a damn box mix cake emerges edible when I use the regular oven. Trying to compensate for convection time on a cake was more than my brain could manage. I tried once. The outside edges of the cake came out all firm and rubbery and the middle was the consistency of the La Brea tar pits. It smelled yummy though. No one in my house wanted to try it. Cowards.

Unless my guy finds a suitable convection unit before Thanksgiving, one that doesn’t cost the equivalent of the per capita GDP of Kiribati, we’re resigned to the standard oven. Anybody got any tried & true Thanksgiving turkey recipes that do not involve 10 hour cook times or the need to baste every fifteen minutes? Failing that, I'll take a used Farberware T4850 in realtively good working order.

when good appliances go bad

I’m in mourning.

Truly. It seems a bit over-dramatic, but hey, I write a blog that tracks the minutia of my life, so why should this be any different.

When SuperHubby and I got married, my parents gave us a Farberware Convection/Broiler oven as a wedding present. I KNOW! Those wild people.

It is butt ugly, big, boxy & matte black, taking up precious counter space that I never had to spare. It makes cooking fast & simple, keeping my life just that one teensy bit less insane and stressed. 18 lb Turkey? Just over 4 hours, juicy and golden. 8 lb roast beef? 2 ½ hours, medium rare, succulent. And on and on it cooked.

This oven cut down on my cooking time by many, many hours over the past sixteen years. In my world, time is at a premium dammit! That extra hour I did not have to wait for some damn slab of meat to roast was spent on more productive endeavors, like another repeat episode of NCIS. (mmmm, Mark Harmon, mmmm.) I was smug in my cooking swiftness. No more long days preparing a large family dinner. This wonderful black box of circulating hot air cut my cooking time by half.

We use this bountiful heating box to make casseroles, reheat casseroles, bake stuff, roast various pieces of meats, cook up some gluten free pizzas and other assorted GF goodies for SuperHubby.

When Giggles got involved in Polymer Clay crafts, the box was asked to bake her crafty creations nice and solid. No problem, shove ‘em in, set that timer and Poof! hardened claywonderful creations!

My in-laws house is larger so most of the time we gather over there for holiday dinners. That monstrosity was hauled to their place regularly. It made the trek this Thanksgiving and cooked a golden juicy 18 lb turkey in no time. With no fuss, no mess and left the other less wonderful oven available for the rest of dinner preparations. It started making serious old man grumpy noises not long after that. We knew it wouldn’t be long before it gave up its last gasp, but hoped we’d get through once last holiday dinner.

We carted it over, carefully handling its passage, and offered it an 8 ½ lb roast to cook up for the Christmas 2009 dinner. Almost 3/4 of the way in the internal fan squealed and emitted a noise that only be compared to an elephant’s fart and then stopped working. The heating element then lost its warm cooking glow. A few solid thumps along the side had been effective in getting it back in working order the last few months, but to no avail this time.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I shouldn't complain. This thing definitely gave us its all and then some. 16 years. Most marriages don't last that long these days, let alone appliances.
We moved the roast to the regular oven and finished cooking it. Turned out fine, but it took longer. The theme here is time and convenience, in case I haven't stressed that fact.

SuperHubby and I have spent considerable amounts of time trying to track a similar one down online, but Farberware no longer makes this type of convection/broiler. Fuckers. Why would they stop making this thing? Didn’t they know one day I would need another one? And now that day has come and I’m being forced to go back to the ordinary oven model and the long ass hours it takes to prepare food. I may go on a cooking strike.

See? I’m in mourning.

If anyone happens to have a Farberware T4850 Convection/Broiler oven stashed somewhere, in good working order, just waiting for a loving hand to use it, I’m your gal.

Holiday Hooplah!

Yeah, all this Holiday preparation, not too mention work, has interfered with my navel-gazing, blog reading, posting desires. Which seems completely unfair given my unrequited love for my fellow man...oh, sorry, that's another post all together involving one neighbor and large piles of snow.

It seems one can survive on just 4-5 hours of sleep a night for two weeks straight. Survive being the operative word here, thriving being another matter.

My brain is foggy and my eyeballs feel like someone rubbed grit in them. The snow-whomping we had this past weekend overtaxed my muscles and I feel like a creaky old lady. Mostly because I sit my ass behind a desk and stare at a computer screen all day, so when called upon to heft and heave two feet of snow from the driveway, I'm a whimpering pansy ass for the rest of the week. Oh, how I love thee, my Wong To Yick.

Ace unfortunately strained his lower back while shoveling also, so he's been grounded by the chiropractor for a time until that heals so he can get back to swim practice. My mean grumpy mother side still thinks he did it on purpose to avoid cleaning his room. But he's an achy boy right now, so we'll sit on him for a few days to keep him resting. Not an easy thing to do with a 14-year-old who does not know the meaning of "take care of yourself!"

Despite my poorly planned holiday preparations, I've managed to finish the necklaces I made for my mother-in-law and sister, which hopefully I remember to take pictures for posting, because if I do say so myself, they turned out fucking awesome. One super dense and creamy Gluten Free Cheesecake was created with Love for SuperHubby last night, finishing up somewhere around 9:00 pm. I take pride in the fact that I did not forget to remove it from the oven and it actually made it nto the refrigerator last night. Sometimes things do not make the transition, memory loss and all that.

SuperHubby being the present planner and shopper was able to acquire most of the presents well in advance of the mad shopping rush, because he is frugal and loves to find the best bargain, which can be done all year long when one is committed. I love his dogged determination in that area. Gift giving has gotten a whole loteeasier in the past few years with his shop early and regularly strategy!

Giggles went on her own creative streak over the past two weeks and made all of her Christmas gifts by hand. She loves working with polymer clay and creating these great ornaments and sculptures. It's great to see her so intent on creating the perfect gift for the people on her list. She made Ace an ornament shaped like a monkey. It's so sweet and quirky and I think he will treasure it for a very long time. She's been telling me how much I'm going to love what she made me,so I can't wait for the grand unveiling tomorrow morning.

We're a tired bunch in Catootesville, given the crazy family schedule, so the next few days of family gatherings will be fun and joyful, a time for love, laughter and way too much food. And maybe some good bourbon.

While we stuff ourselves, unwrap gifts, laugh and love in our home, I wish the same Holiday Warmth & Cheer and Prosperous New Year blessing to all!

Catch you all in 2010!

flight of the...turkey

When I shove that naked plump bird into the oven on Thanksgiving, I will be grinning widely and likely to cackle like that crazy witch in the old Bugs Bunny cartoon when she needed a rabbit for her secret potion.
Presenting Witch Hazel!(image courtesy of wikipedia)

On a side note, how freaking cool is it that I can type “witch in bugs bunny cartoons” into a Google search and up pops this?

Fucking Brilliant. I love the Internet and all its assorted usefulness. That is the euphoric look I will wear as the skin turns golden and the smell of roast turkey permeates the air. I got some payback to deliver.

Because Turkeys, the wild kind, must be dumber than dirt. You know the ones I’m talking about. The black ones that skulk around woodland floors, gobbling about in the early morning and late afternoons. The polygamist males, strutting their fancy wattles and feathers, routinely prance about, as I drive to and from work, sniffing to hook up with some fat female turkey.

Yes, these things.

(image courtesy of wikipedia)

Last November, we took a late fall vacation up in the Pocono’s. It was one of those beautiful autumn days where the sun was shining, the air was crisp but not too chilled and the leaves were in the last vestiges of fall glory and falling like giant jeweled snowflakes.

Giggles & I were heading up, just us two girls, tooling up the secondary highway, singing loudly with Taylor Swift. I began noticing an abundance of fowl, pecking away at whatever the hell these things eat. Small flocks of 5 and more interspersed along the sides of the road. It was turkey-hunting heaven, I swear. Had I been a hunter I might have been salivating from all the available pickings. Turkey Convention! Every so often the unfortunate remains of the bird that did not cross at the light was plastered on the road, feathers everywhere.

Suddenly one of those big ass birds hovering along the side of the road spread its wings and began to take flight. With light speed OH SHIT! awareness, I knew we were cruising at just over 60 mph, there was a car behind and coming along side us. There was nowhere to go and that bird’s trajectory put it smack into my windshield. I yelled at Giggles to duck down, wrapped my fingers tight to the wheel and did what any sane rational woman would do when she's about to have a high-speed impact with a fat fowl, I held on tight, closed my eyes and steered straight.


***CRASH!!****



Bits of glass and other assorted things rained all over me and I opened my eyes quickly to assess how bad the situation was.

Calling out to Giggles, I asked if she was okay. A shaky voice said okay. And I breathed a sigh of relief.


And realized the windshield was still in one piece. As was the passenger side window. Still there was glass and bits of car all over me. And feathers were floating in the front seat, along the dashboard. WTF?

Giggles chimed in from the backseat claiming there was glass all over her lap and in her hair.

Glancing around frantically trying to identify the source of the glass, I noticed gobs of turkey smear on the window. Eeeeewwwww,Yuck!

Which helped me notice that the passenger side mirror was dangling from the car by a wire. Literally, one wire was holding it in place. The entire guts of that mirror were gone. Imploded into the car’s interior when the turkey slammed into it, wattle first.

This is sort of what it looked like in the moment before I closed my eyes. Except it was coming at me, not flying by.

(image courtesy of wikipedia)

All things considered, it could have been much worse. A broken mirror, some turkey goo.

And then the wail from the backseat:


“MOM! There are turkey feathers in my slushie!!!”