turkeys, part deux

Ok, so I won't be doing THAT again.

All day my turkey cooked in the oven, making the house smell just great. I checked the temperature a million times in the thickest part--the thigh--just as the directions said. I cooked it 45 minutes longer than needed, but the thermometer wasn't budging past 140. Then the final time I checked it, it read 180 degrees, so I took it out.

The bird rested for half an hour. The kids and I played. We took a little walk.

Back to the turkey. I start to carve it, and ahh, it's beautiful. Nice and golden. As I get more into it, I see that, dang it, it's not done yet. I don't know much about cooking meat, but I know the "juice" should run clear. This was pink.

What to do? I've already let it rest, and started carving. Can't put it back in.

As I get deeper into it, I find a little plastic bag of giblits. Nice. I fished all around that thing before I cooked it, even turning it upside down and shaking it, and I swear it wasn't in there! Neck--yes. Little bag of goodies--no.

I don't like dark meat, neither does Curt. So off go the legs. Oh my god, it's so gross. All the cracking of bones, and rending of mostly-cooked flesh. How did I miss this before? Am so priviledged as to never experienced this?

Thankfully, Miss Kitty, our mail carrier, brought the mail just as I was about to toss the whole thing in the trash (see above). I told her of my turkey woes, and she had lots of helpful advice to save the day. Wrap the meat in foil, and cook it another 30 minutes. Next time, use a roasting pan, she said.

So, it's not a total wash. We will eat the turkey for dinner, and for many other dinners this week. We'll boil the carcass (ew) and Curt'll make turkey soup. But darned if I'm cooking a whole anything for a long, long time.

turkeys

I'm going to cook a turkey today. I know, I know. It's after Thanksgiving. But I'm not tired of turkey yet, since Mom cooked our entire Thanksgiving meal. We bought one at our little grocery store for really cheap. It's a 14 pounder, a free-range bird.

How is it that at the age of 38, I've never done this before? Curt has cooked lots of turkeys. But somehow, this will be my first attempt and, I'm feeling a little intimidated by it. I know it's just a turkey, but I don't want to ruin it. You know that feeling you get when you're way into the middle of cooking something you have high hopes for, and then things start to go terribly wrong. There's no way out. You've gotten yourself into it, and you've got to figure a way out. Or throw it in the trash, which happens from time to time and is completely defeating.

So, I hope it works. Wish me luck.

p.s. I haven't posted since May. Sheesh. And then when I do, it's about cooking a turkey. I gotta get out more.

ouch!

Yesterday Luke dropped a hefty brick on his bare big toe. Ouch! His toenail turned black immediately. I asked if he could wiggle his toe, and he did, so--whew, no broken bones. "I need a Band-aid! Lots and lots of Band-aids!" he wailed. We went in and sat on the couch for the next hour until he calmed down. The rest of the evening, he was his usual perky self.

Then, at 9:30 last night, Luke woke up crying and writhing in pain. "My toe still hurts!" he cried. We sat on the couch again and watched tv, while I first called Mom (Curt's out of town), then my doctor. After a double-dose of Tylenol, he felt better. The poor guy. You just know how bad it hurts. At the height of it, I had that awful feeling of not being able to help. The last time I had that feeling, he pulled his elbow out of the socket (a big, big ouch!) and to go to the doctor. I've never smashed anything, but just the thought of it makes me weak in the knees. Being a mom kinda forces you to get over initial gross-out reactions.

All's well this morning. The toe looks pretty rough, but Luke said, "It's all better!"

Pinehurst

Yesterday we all went to Pinehurst, a golfing mecca about an hour from Raleigh. Curt had some work to do at the Carolina Inn there, and we tagged along. The boys had fun running up and down the long hallways, playing on the perfect green lawns, and generally living it up. The 4-star hotel has endless lines of chandeliers, big bowls of red apples, and jacket-required dining rooms. And as you might imagine, a very white, upper-class clientele with a not-so-white hotel staff.

The boys and I stayed up late playing "hide the shampoo" and eating junk food. (Or rather, what I thought was junk food but turned out to be sugar-free jellybeans. They were more like wax lips, without the fun juicy stuff.) The next morning we went to the dining room for breakfast. The previous night Curt said the room was 95% full of white men gaffawing, drinking and doing business. Men go there to golf and do business, something I just can't get a handle on. Curt doesn't golf, so he couldn't go golfing with the rest of the men (hanging around on the golf course is bad form). If you don't golf, you're out. It's exclusionary, and I just can't believe this is still the way "the men" do business.

Anyway--here we were having a nice breakfast at the dining room. An older African-American man named Bob gently played the piano. Luke's ears perked up. We went over several times to look. The man graciously waved, smiled, and welcomed us to come over. Luke told him he was learning to play violin.

"Suzuki?" the man asked. (That's the kind of music lessons Luke is taking.)
"Yes," we said.
"You must be very good. Some day I'd like to hear you play me a song," Bob said.
"Ok!" Luke smiled. "When you come over to my house, we can play a beautiful song together."
"I'd like that," said Bob.

We talked a bit more about Luke's violin, all while Bob played a jazzy "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." The man was so kind, and made such a connection with us in just that quick exchange.

I'm having a hard time expressing how I felt. It's a mix of enjoyment (it is a nice hotel, after all) and guilt. Guilty for what, being white? Being wealthy enough to stay there? I wanted to explain it was on the company tab, but why? I noticed myself going out of my way to say thanks to everybody who waited us. Did other people notice the dichotomy, I wondered? Or maybe it's been this way for so long here that this is the status quo.

As we walked out of the dining room Curt said he had goosebumps and I was feeling my eyes getting teary. Bob knew about a relatively obscure form of music training, obviously had been a muscian for most of his life, and was playing for an all-white crowd on an all-black staff. I got the feeling that if we really did invite him to come over, he would come. That would be so nice.

chickie bunnies and some canny

Look at these guys! Eli's showing you his jelly bean, and Luke's posing with his Peter Rabbit ears and jacket. The guys had a really good Easter at the beach. We colored eggs with mom and dad, had egg hunts with Sid, and ate too many chocolate footballs. It was great. Mom and I even managed to take the boys to Duke Gardens to see the tulips (and climb trees). Luke played his new saxophone all weekend, and Eli dove right into his chocolate bunny and jelly beans.

Easter is my favorite holiday. I love that it comes just in time for spring, and it kind of sneaks up on you. It's not too over-the-top commercially. I have such warm memories of Easter morning, finding our Easter baskets, being allowed to eat all the candy we wanted, mom making coffee cake for breakfast, and wearing a new dress to church. One year I ate so much chocolate, I got hives and had to go to the doctor. Ah, the memories.

By the way, I survived my 40 days of wellness. And it was such a success, I'm starting over. (This time, maybe, not so strict.)

Lake Osprey

Here's a picture of The Hideaway. It's really a great spot. In the morning, there's fog on the lake and birds taking off for the day. At night, the birds come home, and you can hear the frogs croaking (or whatever it is they do.) It's very rustic. And (other than the croaking), very, very quiet. As Curt said, "It feels like camping."

and another thing...

I had a dream the other night about John Doe from X. I can't remember what it was about exactly, but he was really nice to me. He was looking out for me, but I can't remember why. When I woke up, I had the song, "My soul cries your name, over and over again," in my head all day. Weird. I really love X. I mean it. I love John and Exene's voices together. And I love their cover of "So Long, It's Been Good to Know Ya." I saw The Knitters at the Cat's Cradle in Chapel Hill when I was 8 months pregnant with Eli. I went by myself because nobody else I know would want to go, and I sure wasn't going to miss it. I had such a great time, grinning ear to ear the whole time. What would we do without music?

day 30

Thirty days into Lent. So far, so good. I feel so, so much better than I was feeling before. It's amazing what crap does to your body. I ate a greasy pork quesadilla ("a greasy pork sandwich in a dirty ashtray"--anyone know this line? anyone?) at my fave bbq place, and felt so sick all night. I called mom (she had the same thing) just to see if it was food poisoning. It wasn't. She was fine. It makes me think I should do this health-kick thing for forty more days. Maybe I will. I doubt it, but wouldn't it be good if I did? What if you deprived yourself of cake and cheesy fries for years, only to die in a car crash? You would be looking down at yourself thinking, "I should have had more cake." I can always eat more cake, that's for sure. But anyway, day thirty. I haven't weighed myself this whole time, but I can tell I'm getting close to whatever it is my body is supposed to weigh. Feels good. I'll tell ya, though, after two babies, she ain't what she used to be.

retro fabric & moviestardom

I've recently started using a sewing machine. It's my mother-in-law's 1974 Montgomery Ward model that my husband inherited. It's a big thing, but it works really well. Anyway, I've just discovered all kinds of cool websites that sell reproductions of old fabric patterns. My new favorite is ciaspalette.com. I just got two yards of a fun 1950's kitchen scene, with matching ric-rac fabric. Fascinating, isn't it? I know. But hey, it's the little things. I'm making curtains for the Hideaway.

Something cool--my friend Kendra Cover moved to L.A. two years ago to be an actress. And now she is! She was just in a Verizon commercial (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtukOrRdVB0) and on the show "House" two weeks ago (with Dave Mathews). How great! And if that weren't enough, she's having a baby in August. I'm going out to see her in July. I haven't been to California since dad took me when I was 10. After I got over my homesickness, I loved it. It's been a while since I had a weekend away, and I'm looking forward to it. What do people wear in L.A. in July? White shorts? Tube tops? I don't know.

Vinnie the Violin

Luke is taking violin lessons at Meredith College. I never knew three year olds could play violins, but they do. And if you want to see something so completely sweet, go to a three to five year olds group violin class. Little tiny violins, real ones, with itty bitty bows. The kids are so into it. Today was Luke's second group class. Yesterday he got his very own, real violin. He has named it "Vinnie." He loves, loves, loves his new violin. When we got home with it, he introduced Vinnie to all of his stuffed animal friends.

Going into group class today, Luke told me he was only going to watch the other kids play their violins. But right near the end, he said, "I want to play up there with the other kids, too." Wow! This is a major breakthrough for Luke, the guy who hates bowing and clapping. I felt so proud. It doesn't matter if you're three or thirty or sixty, it takes nerve to get up and participate in something new. I felt so proud of him for taking the risk, for joining in. He was beaming at the end of class. Who knows if he'll keep playing, but for now, it's a big deal for him and for us, too. Welcome, Vinnie!

the hideaway

We closed on our little place at the beach. We're calling it the Hideaway, after our favorite barbecue honky tonk. After all the hub-bub, the closing went well and ended quietly. We got the keys to the place and Mom started cleaning it. Curt and Luke put the kayak in Lake Osprey (that's the lake we're on), and paddled around. We hear there's an alligator in there, but not worry. You'd be "lucky" if you get to see it. Otters also like to catch fish there, and I hope we do get to see them.

As I was vacuuming the bedroom, I had a strange feeling. Somebody I'll never know used to live right here. Who was he? I think he was an older guy. Had butterflies on his bathroom mirror. A green moon hanging over the doorway. Little snowflakes on the window. The neighbors say his daughter and granddaughter also lived there for a while. Poor guy died six months ago, and left his family to figure out what to do with it all. I think they were glad to be done with it. His family didn't come to the closing, so we'll never know.

The whole neighborhood seemed very excited to see us moving in. Many folks stopped by to say 'hello' and to tell us about themselves. It's a quiet little community. We took care of that as soon as Luke and Eli got out of the car.

To fix the bad fill dirt problem at the water's edge of our property, a crew removed and replaced twelve dump trucks of dirt. That's a lot of dirt. You should have seen the junk they pulled out of the land--concrete slabs, asphalt, chunks of stuff. We still have some land issues to fix, but it's going to be a great place for the guys to grow up. If the gator doesn't get 'em.

day 2

First day of my Lenten Challenge went well, and already I feel better. Gotta keep the momentum going! I went to the gym yesterday and today, so off to a good start.

It looks like we're going to close on our beach place tomorrow. Oh, I hope so. There's been so much drama over it, I just want it to be over already.

Today feels like spring, and I'm so glad. I'm ready to get out of the cold (ok, hasn't been all that cold down here, but ya know, relatively speaking it's cold in NC). Our buds are just peeking up and should be here right on time for spring.

My Lenten Challenge

I've got a headache. I'm pretty sure it was the Quarter Pounder w/cheese (no onions) I ate for dinner. Last night was Beef Stroganoff, and the night before--Chicken Pot Pie. I'm getting all my fat and calories in because a.) it's Fat Tuesday and b.) tomorrow I'm going healthy all the way.

Tomorrow is the beginning of Lent, and ever since I was a girl, I haven't missed one yet. Usually I give up stuff like Coke or candy. When I was 16, I gave up looking at the lyrics sheet of my new "Darkness on the Edge of Town" record. That one was hard! I don't observe much else as far as church-y things go, but somehow Lent is my time. I even look forward to it, which is, admittedly, weird.

In sixth grade, my best friend Susan and I used to make each other Lenten Calendars with good deeds on each of the days, like "say something kind to your brother/sister" or "help your mom with dinner." (I know, corny--but sweet!) We'd decorate them with Peanuts stickers and pictures of Easter lilies and crucifixes.

This Lent, I'm giving up junk food for 40 days. Not just chocolate like last year, but all things c-r-a-p. I'm hoping I'll feel peppier, more awake. I don't know, something. And I'm hoping this headache will go away. Tomorrow it's Kashi Go-Lean (Crunch!) and baby carrots. Yay! Oh, and I'm going to the gym as much as possible. I go early in the morning before Curt leaves for work. I enjoy it once I'm there, but getting out of bed is awful. Once I do get up and take one look at my Tower of Pisa hair and raccoon eyes, I say to myself, "No, you can't go out like this!" Oh, but I do! Short-haired gals like me are at a definite disadvantage. All the other women put their hair up in a ponytail, but not me. I tried on a ball cap this morning just to see, but no. It was worse.

Also on my mind: Curt and I are trying to buy a little beach property in Sunset Beach, North Carolina. It's a modest double-wide mobile home. But oh, the pain in our asses it has become. We've got bank woes. We've got too much dirt here, not enough dirt there. We've got water standing where it should be running away. We've electrical wires dangling--outside in the standing water. We've had to postpone closing twice. If we don't get things all worked out (i.e., a fat check from the bank) by Friday, we'll lose the house. I wonder if it's the gods trying to tell us something. I prefer to see it as just another Lenten challenge. In 40 days, I hope to be relaxing on my new deck, drinking a Coke and eating Whoppers (both the burger and the chocolate kind). Wish me luck.