The scene, my home, early Thanksgiving morning. Brett had taken the kids and the dog for a brisk (and cold - brrrr!) morning walk while I stayed home to prepare the turkey for 5 hours of approximate roasting time:
"Happy Thanksgiving, this is Vicki, how can I help you?"
"Hi Vicki, I need help."
I sound like I'm calling a suicide help-line, and I may as well have been. But I was calling the store where I'd picked up my prized turkey earlier in the week.
"What can I do for you?"
"Well . . ."
I had to explain, in no delicate terms, what had happened when I opened up my fresh, free-range, organic turkey. With a pull date of November 28th, mind you.
I won't elaborate.
Let's just say that I never imagined I'd find myself wearing dark sunglasses and pushing a cart with a rotten turkey wrapped inside a huge black garbage bag INTO a grocery store on the morning of Thanksgiving!
The good news?
I got a brand, spanking-new turkey, a free jar of pickles and half-gallon of egg nog to ease the pain.
And the new turkey was delicious.
Just don't tell my family that it wasn't free-range OR organic!