Last week I had visions of a scrumptious dinner that didn’t involve street people and couples with very young neurotic daughters; however, fate would change all that.
Turkeys at Ingle’s were 58 cents a pound. We bought a nice 20-pound tom and put him in the freezer until the night before I brought him out to thaw.
The huzbund spent the entire afternoon looking for the bird, and an elusive bastard he was. It was an eventful day, as the cat had the son of a bitch cornered three times in various spots of the house.
We still haven’t caught him, but I’m betting we’ll find him wounded under the table by Wednesday.