Useless

It’s raining out. The sky has this color to it that can only be described as “blah.” The busy season, for me, has largely ended. I still have a few events coming up in the next 3 weeks that require my attention, but they are largely on auto pilot. This coming weekend is a 4-day weekend, and the anticipation of having 4 days off has sent my already narrow attention span to dangerously slim proportions. It also does not help that my excellent husband is working from home today. Let’s just slap a giant pair of air quotes around the word “working” and call it a day, shall we?

We are hosting Thanksgiving for the first time ever this weekend. Todd’s parents will come in from Vermont, and our friends John, Jen, Sean and Heidi are also coming over to celebrate with us. Todd will pick up our turkey from the farm a ½ mile down the road from our house this afternoon and begin the elaborate turkey preparation tomorrow which involves the word “brining.” I think that’s like marinating, but different. Good thing I am not the cook in this family. We’d all be making sculptures out of inedible mashed potatoes around the table while our guests casually checked their watches and exchanged glances that would only mean “When can we blow this popsicle stand and get a Big Mac?”

The Saturday before last we met our turkey. We arrived at the farm, and followed the farmer to the pens where gaggles of turkeys were housed. He vaguely pointed to a big one in the middle of the pack and told us it could be our turkey. We stood there, not knowing exactly what to do. I mean, there’s an animal that would soon be on the end of my fork happily gobbling away with its other pen-mates. I think we must have somehow complemented the farmer on his turkey growing prowess before we dodged the mud puddles and made our way back to the car.

But until I dangle the forkful of neighborhood turkey near my open mouth, I still have about 12 hours of work to go. And I swear the clock just ran backward a little bit.