I struggled a lot with this week’s The Week That Was, trying to get in the right headspace to write on everything that happened. These seven days weren’t extraordinarily good nor bad — with how hectic my life usually is, you could even call them tame. I burned through page after page trying to get it right, but I couldn’t get it flowing as I wanted — a story worth reading for an audience that expects as much of me as I do of myself wasn’t within grasp, no matter how much I hustled.
But just because something’s hard doesn’t mean you don’t do it — sometimes you need to find another approach to getting your story across!
When Butterball decided they liked my last post enough to order up a second helping (and yes, please expect many turkey and Thanksgiving puns from here on in), I was game for pretty much anything they wanted to try. The last time we’d danced, I wound up hanging with Team Andretti as we watched all manner of vehicle drive ludicrously fast down by Exhibition place. As a parent, husband and homeowner, it can be tough to find the time for hitting events, but when they’re cool enough, you make time.
Which is all a roundabout way of saying a courier caught me by surprise when he showed up at my door with a 6-kilo turkey to hand over!
So, context. In the nearly 8 years we’ve been together, Sarah and I have tried to cook a turkey but once, so put off by the disastrous result that we never tried again. An undercooked bird, a handful of tantrums and a hazy period where I went vegetarian for a bit purely out of spite later, it’s a task I put squarely out of mind until one point in the future where either set of parents decided they no longer wanted to host family dinners and tasked the kids to do it*.
But a big part of holidays is about family, and now with one of my own, it’d probably be for the best if I learned a thing or two about putting a holiday spread together — I mean, it’s the least I could do for the people who’ve put up with me this long, right?