As it turned out, I was pleasantly surprised. I looked into the fridge on Saturday and saw what I thought was a smallish turkey ready for the evening feast. (Ready to be part of the feast, rather than ready to partake of it… just thought I’d clarify.) The bird I discovered however was not a smallish turkey, but rather an obscenely largish chicken. How large? Let’s put it this way. If one was to go to a Swiss Chalet for lunch after church on a Sunday, (as close to 99.97% of church goers in the TDot do,) and one was feeling quite hungry, one might order the Half-Chicken Dinner, rather than just the Quarter-Chicken (white or dark.) Half of our Thanksgiving Chicken fed the five people sitting around the table to the “OOOOooooOOOO I am so full” level.
This of course helps my argument against turkey. Even though this chicken was friggin’ huge, it still kept all of its juicy chicken goodness, as opposed to the not-so-juicy turkey not-so-goodness that we are normally accustomed to at Thanksgiving. (Note: except for the turkey my sister, Professor Krispy Giggle-Guts Googieboggie Wise III, made last Christmas which was insanely juicy, (i.e. you could almost wring it out,) due to the fact that she basted it every two minutes according to Cheri.)
I realized something else while hanging out with my sister all weekend. “Your Mama” jokes just aren’t as effective on siblings.
Oh, and I’m better at Trivia Pursuit than my Sis.
All for now,
*To any American readers this seems pretty normal, but to explain for those in the Great White North, my Step-Mum is American, (and Canadian, but she was born in the U.S.)