Let's Destress with some Thanskgiving Disaster Stories

Maybe you were stuck in an airport. Maybe someone inadvertantly invited your ex with the kind thought of giving you the chance to rekindle that young love. Maybe your sweetpotato casserole had a bad ingredient and sent all of your in-laws off to the emergency. This will give us all a chance to de-stress and, hopefully, give us a few laughs, as well.

My funniest Christmas memory was the first year my sister was put in charge of the turkey. We grew up in a rural area in the South. We weren't rich and never found our way to the homecoming court or the debutante parties. So, our first turkey was pretty much a coming out party. My sister was very excited, as her potential beau would be having dinner with us. She and mom spent ours picking out exactly the right butterball. (No, we couldn't risk using an off brand for my sister's first turkey.)

Sis spent the night with my grandmother so she could get the bird ready and in the oven. She had written down all the constructions, although none of us thought she would need them. She had only seen thhis ritual take place 20 years. To take the stress off the rest of the morning, she got up early and informed Granny that the turkey and dressing were in the oven. My grandmother was so proud, it was the first thing she blurted out as mom, dad and I arrived. As other relatives began arriving...including the beau and his surprise guest, beau's mother. As the women folk rushed to get the side dishes out, the smell coming from the oven was simply mouthwaatering. I remember the smell alone made me hungry enough to "taste test" the potato salad several times.

Finally, my sister's moment had arrived. I was relegated to the kiddie table, but I had a clear view of my mentor, my best friend and my roommate for the first 16 years of my life. I was cheering inside:  Go, Sis, Go.

As my grandmother was lining up the food, she noticed the dressing was not in the oven. When she asked my sister where the dressing was, Sis replied "The stuffing is inside the turkey." I noticed the men continued with their conversations about football or car parts. The women, however, came to a complete halt (including beau's mother).

Here's the conversation as best I can remember it:
Mom: Oh, you mean you made the stuffing and put it inside the turkey.
Sis: No, this turkey came with a bag of stuffing inside the turkey.

Sis then grabbed her thongs and pulled out the gibblets or whatever is in those bags you're supposed to remove from the turkey. We would have no dressing that day.

Then, an amazing thing happened as I watched my aunts, cousins and everybody else pull in the wagons. Beau's mom said "Well, honey, you didn't think that the giblets were actually dressing did you?"

My aunt followed with a long and distracting (and probably untruthful) story abut how we have a recipe for giblet dressing that had been handed down through generations. Because the turkey took longer, though, we weren't going to be albe to make the dressing. We had plenty of other sides, though, so feel free to have some mashed potatos or some of Aunt Ida Bell's special sweet potato caserole...you know she uses a secret ingredient - rum."

That day, I learned that making what most consider a major cooking error doesn't really change the taste of the turkey. It was delicious. And I also learned what the true meaning of family loyalty was. My family was not going to have my sister embarrassed during her big coming out party. And she was not going to be insulted by some cliquish mother, even if she was the mother of the town's most handsome suitor.

This ended up being longer than I expected. Thanks for reading it. I would love to read about your Thanksgiving memories.