WOW! It appears that Liam will have a sibling sometime in August of 2007! Here we go again……

It’s that time again…

We’ll be taking off for New Mexico in a few days. Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas this year, since they’ve already gotten a steady bit.

Kyle arrives tomorrow! Yaaay!! We haven’t seen our little Army of One since September and it’s going to be awesome.

Liam says: HO! HO! HO!

I decided to try my hand at the turkey this Thanksgiving. The madness that ensued can only be described as a complete clusterfcuk. The plan was to go to Simi the night before to start the bird brining, so Wednesday I attempted to clean up and do some laundry while chasing Liam about. The shopping would have to be done that evening when Patrick got home. Mid-day he called me and said that he was leaving early and should be home in a couple hours. By this time I had run out of quarters and had several wet loads waiting for the dryer. As I started getting Liam ready to jump in the car grab some more at the bank (already typically behind schedule), I receive another call from Patrick. He had been sitting in traffic for some time and only gone 10 miles, inches at a time. He was hungry so he got off the freeway for a burger, at which point the Jeep had broken down in the Burger King drivethru. The manager had come out and helped him push the car out into the parking lot and he was now stranded there in the middle of the ghetto, feeling rather conspicuous, and… well, white. No worries, we have AAA for the Jeep and roadside assistance for the Jimmy! I called up AAA and they informed me that since the membership is in my name, I’d have to be present for them to tow the car. It follows the member. And the roadside assistance follows the car… which was at that moment cozily resting in our parking spot. I did not relish the idea of packing Liam into the car and sitting on the 405 at rush hour just to get there hours later only to call the tow truck. And to top it off, we only had the 7 mile tow on our membership so it’s not even like we could have towed it home. Oh, what a quandary! I called AAA back and this time a nice young man told me that they could tow the vehicle as long as Patrick was there with the keys and an ID. Meanwhile, Pat had discovered a mechanic with a mouthful of gold across the street who graciously agreed to look at the Jeep. Our good friend Robert came to rescue Patrick and drive him back up to West L.A.. By then the bank had closed and it was already dark out so I ran to the store for quarters, finished up the laundry, packed us all for the weekend, and headed north to Simi. I was to stop and grab Pat along the way and I realized that my phone charger was not in the car and my phone was already issuing those warning beeps… Of course I had not ascertained the exact location where Patrick was before I left, either. All he told me was that they were at Rob’s house. I quickly dialed Pat.

"MyphoneisoutofbatteryandIdon’thavethecharger, tellmehowtogettherefast"

"What? Ok hang on… let me have Rob tell you."

(Few frustrating seconds of background clinking and rustling)

"Oh hey NataBEEP, what’s up?"

"WhereareyouguysmyphonehasnoBEEPbattery"

"It’s like past Bundy on Santa BEEPica, I think it’s called BusbBEEP"

"Busby? What? BEEPOkSantaMonicaandBundythinkIgotitkbye"

Crap. Was Bundy east or west of the 405? And what the hell is Busby, a street? I realized that I had not eaten all day. A dull ache began to work its way through my addled brain. Ugh. West. It’s got to be. Oh no! Was that the exit I just passed? Yep. Well, I ended up finding it anyway (turns out Busby’s is a bar) and when I got there Patrick had food waiting, because he loves his wife (and knows me well enough to understand that low blood sugar=bad).

But this was only the beginning.

Patrick drove while I ate and handed Liam fries to munch on. I think that by the time we got to Simi it was around 10:30 and we stopped at WalMart to get a roasting pan. They didn’t have anything else I needed and luckily Patrick was right about the grocery stores being open late. However, by the time we got there, all the fresh turkeys were gone… save one. The big ol’ honkin’ mama of all turkeys was waiting for us. The thing was gargantuan. I was looking for a 15 pounder and this beast was 24. I had no other choice, because it takes much too long to defrost the frozen ones. So much for buying the roasting pan… there was no way it would fit. We got the largest size of disposable ones they had, along with the spices and brine ingredients.

Once we arrived at my parents’ house, I set to work on getting the turkey into the brine. Now there was another problem; the bucket that I had for the brining process was too small for the behemoth. Time to get creative. Plastic trash bag? No, it says "not for food use" on the box. Plastic storage bins? Mmm, no. Not enough brine to fill those up. Cooler? Rather large, but could work if I’m able to displace some of the liquid… So I rinsed out the turkey. That, by the way, was no small task. It was rather awkward lifting something that is a combination of dead weight, floppy wings, cold clammy flesh, and icky raw poultry juices. I plopped it into the brine, set it up to chill overnight, and went to bed around 4 a.m. with my fingers crossed.

The rest of the cooking process went smoothly (thank God!!!). Patrick put in his contribution by poking the turkey for its temperature at the end (with the lovely Molly assisting, of course), and removing it from the oven as well. The massive beast turned out to be a juicy perfection. The gravy that its drippings produced was a delicious pot of artery-clogging heaven. Kudos to Alton Brown and his Good Eats. Needless to say, I needed a couple days to recover.