Bakersfield.com

larger view

Thanksgiving morning I turned on the oven so it would be ready for our 18 pound turkey.  After about 10 minutes, I noticed something didn't seem quite right.  I opened the oven door and discovered the heating element had burned apart and I had no heat.  I was thankful we did not have an electrical fire.

My husband Alex hustled out the door in search of propane for the outdoor grill so we could still cook the turkey.  After about 20 minutes on the grill, smoke came pouring out of the outdoor grill.  It was from the turkey fat.  Alex fussed and fumed over our dilemma.  I wondered at what point fat catches fire.  I was thankful we did not have a fat fire.

Around 3:00pm, Alex came in with a funny look on his face.  "Well, I don't think we're going to have any turkey this year," he said.  "Is it totally burned?" I asked.  "Come see for yourself," he said.

I went outside to view the carnage.  The wings looked melted into the pan.  "It's an 18 pound turkey.  Surely we can salvage something," I implored my husband.  He was able to tear off the blackened skin and slice off some breast meat.

I became increasingly irritated throughout the day.  It wasn't easy trying to figure out how to cook a pumpkin pie without an oven.  At one point I threw up my hands and let out a screech of frustration.  My 18 year old daughter Morgen gave me the look that mothers most often give their daughters just before a lecture.  "Mom.  Don't you know Thanksgiving isn't about the food," she reminded me.  "We are supposed to be grateful we are safe, well and together.  We'll make do."

I had to smile.  The kid was right.  Alex took a picture of the bird sans breast as a reminder that the beauty of the Thanksgiving feast lies in the fellowship of those gathered around it, not the food.