fithelere (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fithelere) wrote,@ 2007-12-25 08:42:00 |
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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
So last year, when our entire neighborhood was caught up in the throes of the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar, I decided to throw a holiday party for Joyce and invite some of our friends over. The turkey I made for it (using Alton Brown's recipe) was such a big hit that this year, when my friends decided to throw a neighborhood party on Christmas day, they asked me to bring the turkey.
Of course, last night, Joyce had the Christmas Eve shift at the 'dillo. She gets this shift because we have no children and therefore, one presumes, no desire to be at home on Christmas Eve. So after packing up the stock and getting out of there at about midnight, we stopped for food at the Waffle Ho (only place open, pretty much), and drove the hour plus it takes to get to our home in the forest. Then I had to turn the turkey and add the secret ingredients to the brine. Add to that some heated discussions Joyce and I were having, and it was pretty frakking late by the time I got to bed.
And the alarm went off way too early so that I could start cooking that monster bird that it'll take to feed the whole neighborhood. So here I am, sitting at my computer before the crack of nine on Christmas, reflecting on the fact that I didn't get most of my gift-shopping done, thanking chance that booth tear-down at the Armadillo has been moved to the 26th--it used to always be on Christmas--and wondering where the hell my coffee is.
So last year, when our entire neighborhood was caught up in the throes of the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar, I decided to throw a holiday party for Joyce and invite some of our friends over. The turkey I made for it (using Alton Brown's recipe) was such a big hit that this year, when my friends decided to throw a neighborhood party on Christmas day, they asked me to bring the turkey.
Of course, last night, Joyce had the Christmas Eve shift at the 'dillo. She gets this shift because we have no children and therefore, one presumes, no desire to be at home on Christmas Eve. So after packing up the stock and getting out of there at about midnight, we stopped for food at the Waffle Ho (only place open, pretty much), and drove the hour plus it takes to get to our home in the forest. Then I had to turn the turkey and add the secret ingredients to the brine. Add to that some heated discussions Joyce and I were having, and it was pretty frakking late by the time I got to bed.
And the alarm went off way too early so that I could start cooking that monster bird that it'll take to feed the whole neighborhood. So here I am, sitting at my computer before the crack of nine on Christmas, reflecting on the fact that I didn't get most of my gift-shopping done, thanking chance that booth tear-down at the Armadillo has been moved to the 26th--it used to always be on Christmas--and wondering where the hell my coffee is.
