Three things I don’t like about Thanksgiving…

I know it is not Thanksgiving anymore. Even I am aware of that! But still, it is fresh enough that I can write a blog about it. After all, we have all been talking about Christmas for a good two weeks and it’s not here yet. So cut me some slack!

On Thanksgiving Day, I wrote about my top five favorite things for that holiday. Today, I want to write about the three things I don’t like about it. Yeah, yeah, it’s not all hunky-dory! Some stuff is not nice, like:

  1. Smelling of turkey for a whole week. As much as I love eating turkey on Thanksgiving Day, I  cannot stand the smell of it for days after. The whole house is like a giant turkey sauna. Turkey smell for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and anytime in between. I wish we could cook outside so we would not have to live in Turkeyland for so long. By the 25th of December, the smell is starting to fade into distant memory and guess what we cook for Christmas? A good old smelly turkey!
  2. Ungrateful people back to their normal self the next day. On Thanksgiving Day, everybody is thankful for something: family, health, kids, friends. There is so much love and compassion in the air, you can almost touch it with your fingers. People are all nice to one another, friendly to perfect strangers. It’s great! The day after Thanksgiving…. Well, it’s back to “Every man for himself!” Don’t try to cross the road in the anticipation that the driver will stop. Don’t pull at a junction, thinking that for sure, the car coming opposite is going to let you through – after all, they are your neighbors and you are just trying to get out of your drive! Forget all that lovey-dovey stuff. All gloves are off. Get me my coffee fast and move out of my way!!!!
  3. Shoveling ten inches of grease from the oven. With turkey cooking, comes oven cleaning. I was always under the impression that “He who cooks must clean after himself”. Whereas my husband goes by a different principle, something like, “I have done all the cooking so you can do the cleaning”. And by “you”, he means, ME. It should be an easy problem to solve: put the oven on self-clean for fifteen hours, and job done! So I did just that. Except, I put the ventilation on super duper powerful. Because I already have one incident under my belt with fire trucks coming to my house for some burnt fries. So I am not taking chances anymore. I think one big humiliation every ten years is enough…  The fan was so loud that I could not hear the oven. OR, maybe I could not hear it because it was not working!!! HA! So a few days later, I put the oven on for cooking (yeah, yeah, French fries again… I am French, it’s ok…). Not only was there smoke, but there was a fire inside my oven. A FIRE!!! Instead of panicking and throwing a bucket of water on the flames, I stayed very calm, switched the oven off, started screaming after my kids, “OH MY GOSH, THERE IS A FIRE OPEN THE WINDOWS. DON’T PANIC, DON’T PANIC. IT’S OK. O.H. M.Y. G.O.S.H.!!! DO NOT PANIC!!” and waved my arms in all directions – not sure why. I think my idea was to get rid of the smoke, but all I did was spread it nicely across the house. So a few fire trucks later (no, only kidding. But I think we came pretty close to it!), once the oven had cooled down, I opened it and there it was: inches of grease, glued to the bottom of it. How does one clean that? First I thought of moving house. Selling it, with the oven, make it someone else’s problem. Just leave. Somehow, this seems like a much easier solution than having to clean. My husband said I was silly – pfff, why doesn’t HE clean it then! Then I thought of calling a guy to come and clean it for me. Is this even a job? Then I decided to tackle the problem myself. So I got a kitchen shovel – yeah! For real!!! And let me tell you, it was as hard as ploughing my drive after a snow storm. So next year, we are renting an oven, turkeys!!

Attached is a proof that I am not exaggerating one bit about the grease … or the shoveling…


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