Gobble gobble gobble
I feel like an idiot.
Yesterday, Mike and I spent the entire day at my parents' place, cooking food, eating food, relaxing and rejoycing. I brought my camera, all ready to take tons of photographs of the happy occasion.
The minute I stepped through the doorway, I promptly forgot that I brought it and have no photographs to grace this entry. Oh well.
This was the second year in a row that my mom asked us to make the turkey. This was the second time that Mike had to cook one, and improvise the stuffing. The first time was last year. My family has very little clue on how to cook a turkey since we don't like turkey meat. For us and most other filipinos, it is essentially one large bird of white meat. We prefer dark meat.
Did I mention the turkey in our yard? I was walking out of the house when I spotted a man and a woman poking around the front and side. The woman turned to me.
"Umm.. did you know that you've got a turkey in your yard?"
I looked at them quizzically. "A what?"
She pointed to the other side of the house. "A turkey."
She looked sincere enough so I was willing to walk down the front steps, turn my back on her, and walk over to look at the far side of the house.
There it was.
A gigantic bird that looked like a turkey!
It was as large as a good-sized dog like the one across the street and was prepared to strut unto the train tracks. I was in shocked and I stood there with an open, gaping mouth, speechless.
The woman and man smiled at me and continued "hunting" the turkey. We exchanged a few works but I've forgotten what they relate to. Concern that it would get run over in the morning by a passing train? Surprised that it was here in suburbs? Speculation that it came down from the reservation less than a mile away? I don't recall anymore. I considered running upstairs and getting Mike to poke his head out of the window to see the spectacle...
... then I decided against it. I didn't want to miss my bus and it was a good decision: my bus arrived just as I walked over to my stop.
Mike and I did most of the cooking during the day. The turkey came out superb, despite the fact that we all generally dislike turkey. I made some baked caramelized pearl onions. Mike made some butternut squash in brown sugar and his famous basil mushroom dish, which is a hit wherever he goes.
My mom, Els, and Ann Sophie (my sister's friend) were assigned to make the mashed potatoes. They had just boiled several of them and began mashing them in a large bowl when they decided to make things run smoother, they would utilize the hand-held blender/whipper that we had. They went at the potatoes like mad. However...
...instead of becoming mashed, they became, er, the consistency of wall paper paste. It was weird and slimy and sticky. I never thought that potatoes could become that viscosity, but it did. It was weird. They ended up becoming like pizza dough. We all had theories to why it happened. I think that the whipper whipped the potato particles too fine. My mom things that the whipper "cooked" the potatoes a little bit and caused it to change consistency. Els and Ann Sophie were stumped and wigged out. My mom decided to try deep frying them, like zeppolis, but they ended up breaking up in the oil. Anyone have a clue to what happened?
My mom ended up giving Mike and I a third of the turkey, all of the stuffing (we like turkey compared to our feelings towards stuffing), and some gravy. I have no idea how we're going to finish it, but Mike convinced me to stop thinking about finishing the turkey, since it is obvious that we could never do so. Resign myself to the fact that we won't finish the turkey and we'll feel better about eating it.
---
Today, I worked for most of the day. Almost like a normal work day, without the three hour commute. I also made very good time because I didn't have anyone to distract me from my work. In the office, people are always asking me to look at something or help them fix a problem. Now, it was just me working and I ended up doing almost twice as much work at home in the same time I would do work in the office.
I think it behooves my company to let me telecommute.
---
Tonight, despite the terrible storm outside (the rain was poouring down and my mom kept repeating the mantra "I hate this! I hate this!" in reference to driving in the weather), I went to see Els and Jean perform at the Minstral Cafe. It's a group of folk music lovers that try to get local bands to play for them. Els and Jean (as Two Girls and a Guitar: A guitar never had it so good) opened up for Illegal Contra Band. Els and Jean were really great. They are contemplating changing their name and I think that would be such a travesty. I love it! Especially the tag line. Their business cards are adoribly cute too.
They played wonderfully and I've requested the lyrics from her. I really like them and would like to print them up and hang them around my office and study. She's got one playfully witty song that cracks me up every single time I hear it. I'd attempt to repeat the chorus, but I know I'd mess it up pretty badly and it's best not to say anything at all. Once I get those lyrics though, I'll post them.
For the occasion, I decided to get glammed up. Eyeshadow. Lipstick. Glitter liberally applied all over my face. Black glittery stockings, floor-length black velvet skirt, black velvet blouse, my blue satiny purse. Excessive, for only an hour of listening to music. Despite the energy of the Illegal Contra Band, I was exhausted from working all day and drove home at intermission. The rain stopped as I drove home, so it wasn't as treacherous.
Thank goodness for small favors.
