ROFL! No, I tried the same tactics for years from cooking indistinguishable from Alpo, to presents wrapped in newspaper - all to no avail now. Just shows how desperate they must be!
This is my husband's large group that I am up against. If it was my own family, I would speak my mind, just as I would have more say-so if the grandchild were not a step-grandchild. But step-parenting and going against the spouse's family is more difficult to do. My oldest step-grandchild is the same age as my daughter, and they used to be in the same grade at school together. I am far more strict with my daughter than I am with the step-kids - it's awkward!
Dr. Bill had the right idea it seems. Besides, he can get rid of them more subtly by bringing his MIL free samples of anti-wrinkle cream, coupons for liposuction and other presents that are actually veiled insults. Enough of those, and she'll dread coming over as much as he dreads having her ![]()
It's going on 5:00 a.m. in California and I've been up for hours already. Another traditional Thanksgiving morning, which, as always, tends to make a flamboyant display of the differences between myself and Martha Stewart on the homemaking front. Until that lady learns that fine dinner linen DOES come with names like Bounty ior Brawny, in rolls of 150+ sheets, the fancier ones being double quilted with seasonal motifs imprinted on them, ready to tear off and use, I think we will never see eye-to-eye.
Already, I am facing a stunning blow to my already severely challenged cooking skills. Normally this is best displayed when the time for eating comes round and I try to convince people that having all the courses ready within three hours of each other DOES count as being all ready at once. (This trick works best if the first course is cookies for the kids, and copious amounts of wine for the adults, btw).
But this morning the flippin' turkey and I are already going round and round over its stubborn refusal to thaw. Now, I bought that bird fair and square Tuesday evening (highly advanced planning for me). I dutifully shotputted it onto a shelf in the refigerator once I got it home, not wanting to subject people to salmonella or worse from improper poultry handling. And now, before its still-living friends and relatives are even crowing or gibbering this a.m., the darned bird remains frozen through solid as a rock! I mean, it's only 15 1/2 pounds; not like my usual Tool Time theory of cooking: bigger-is-better!
Right now, after having had a long chat with the bird over my lack of appreciation of its stubborn streak (it frostily ignored me), I have it bathing in the luxury of once-warm water in my kitchen sink (it turned the water to ice water, defeating that plan). Gentle massage under warm running water seems to only cause a wing to flap in derision at my attempts. Yes, I am beginning ot suspect it is flipping me off. I soon found there is not much you can threaten an already dead and frozen bird with. But, like hitting the stubborn cola machine at work, it at least makes me feel like I've engaged in self-help to at least try.
I would put it in the oven on a low temperature to thaw some, but as I recall, last time someone turned the heat up too high to "help," we discovered that that plastic on the bird does indeed melt and adhere to the bird surface at some point. Only the most kind of guests will politely agree that having the Zachy Farms slogan melted into the bird's butt is just a good way of showing everyone how fresh the bird really is.
I am giving some consideration to convincing my daughter that turkey bowling is a new tradition to be performed in the driveway with the yams that my husband despises used for bowling pins. A quick trip to KFC, would solve most of the holiday problems, even providing fancy little desserts with ruffled whipped cream in cute little plastic containers. But before I get to that point, do any of you non-culinary-challenged folks have any ideas of how to force this bird into thawed submission fast?
BTW, how many of you REALLY cute those little radishes into rosebud shapes on the vegetable plate? I keep hoping that the myth of the perfect meal will show up in Snopes, but so far, they have not addressed that point. . .

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