It’s Not Like I Beat My Kids With It…All righty then. Murphy’s Law is alive and well as evidenced by my missing turkey baster. Each and every time I even think about making a turkey, my son, using his eerie powers of perception, pilfers my baster and hides it somewhere special, a place that defies all laws of physics, logic, and God. There is a place in my home harboring approximately fifteen turkey basters, and damned if I know where it is.
Well, guess it’s “suck up the turkey juices with a straw” time again. Sounds gross, but honestly, burned mouth aside, it does make for a fine, crispy skin. When my guests compliment me on the delicious bird tomorrow, I shall smile with blistered lips and say not a word. So, shhhhh. It’s our little secret.
Have a fun weekend, everyone.