My First Turkey

I'm sure we've all been there. That first time you cook a turkey on your own. As dusk gives way to the mellow meanderings of autumn orangeness and whispy wantings (I've been taking a writing class), I am drawn back to my first attempt at roasting a turkey. It was shortly after marrying my wife.

My wife is, in case you didn't know, from Cuba. Cubans are a thrifty people. After coming to America they usually celebrated Thanksgiving by eating a single raspberry and then arguing with each other about when Castro would die. Then they'd say it was too cold and everyone would put on a coat.

And so, I was determined to give my dearest wife a true American Thanksgiving. A proper Thanksgiving. As an American, I was perfectly suited to do just that.

And what better way to do that than to purchase a fresh turkey from a fresh turkey farm. These turkeys were so fresh they were still living. I brought home my live turkey (by the way, they make a mess in the car) and set about to prepare it for dinner.

I didn't know much about cooking. But I knew an oven was vital to the process. I preheated it to 325 and put the turkey in. It was hard getting it in there. It tried to snap at me a few times, but I eventually lured it in with some candy corn.

What I remember the most is the noise. For about a half an hour it put up a pretty good fight. It pecked at the glass and made some unusual noises which I drowned out with an Enya CD.

Eventually its feathers caught fire. When I opened the oven door it ran out and caught my dog on fire. My word! What a time. I grabbed the turkey with a towel and threw it in the shower. I turned on the water and it drowned. I felt bad for a while....but I LOVE turkey, so I brought it back to the oven.

Anyway...what a time! Ha ha ha! I'll never do that again. From that day on all my turkey's have been dead, de-feathered and gibblet-less. However, I have since stuffed them all with candy corn.

"A RETURN TO NORMALCY"

I don't often quote our 29th president, Warren G. Harding, but in this case I think it's appropriate.

My first blig in over three months indeed marks a return to normalcy. Although, when I say that, I don't hold my fist like I'm crushing a defenseless bee.

So, where the heck have I been? Unfortunately...gainfully employed on three different projects. One is now completed and I can again turn my attention to important matters...like bligging.

And what better way to return to bligging than bligging about our 29th president. Most people don't know a lot about Warren G. Harding. In fact, most 5th grade students have never even heard of him. In most textbooks he's simply referred to as 'Our 29th President'. In some textbooks in the San Francisco School District, he's simply referred to as 'That mean president.' Those same textbooks refer to President Taft as, 'Lard ass'.

Anyway, here are some things you may want to know about Warren G. Harding:

1. Harding began each morning by killing seven ferrets with his bare hands. While most of us might think that's a rather strange way to start the day, Harding explained that, "The regular killing of a ferret enlivens one's humors, reduces turbidity and has no to equal in the reduction of hand callouses. What's more, I enjoy it."

2. Harding detested the term 'baker's dozen' and lobbied congress heavily to have its use federally outlawed. Harding became so obsessed with this issue that it nearly paralyzed his presidency. In his memoirs, "Harding!" Harding wrote, "I think a dozen should be a dozen. 12 is 12. Are we so immutable and languid as to allow bakers to undo thousands of years of mathematical progress, not to mention the dumbification of untold children merely for the sake of ignominious hyperbole? Should we allow this aberration to stand, I see no reason why other trades won't insist on their own proclivities of numeration. We may have a Fisherman's Dozen which by my accounting would be 15! A Mason's dozen could reach the unwieldy valuation of 19. And a Pharmacists dozen could lead to innumerable abrasions of the eye."

3. An amateur botanist, Harding spent his later years trying to breed a geranium with a Siamese cat. He explained by insisting that, "This hybrid species would not only flower each spring, but purr as well. What's more it would be pleasing to the touch and could take its nourishment from the earth rather than the can." Harding claimed he had succeeded in breeding the strange hybrid and even displayed it at the 1923 meeting of the Chicago Botanical Society. Harding was rebuked however when it was discovered he had simply taken the head of a cat and stuck it onto a geranium stalk. Harding vehemently denied the charge, but later conceded after a dead, headless Siamese cat was discovered in his waistcoat. For years Harding insisted such a hybrid could be bred, "if it were not for the encumbrances of time and common sense."