Turkey Shenanigans

The aroma of turkey filled the Pasadena home.  Hands lifted the big brown bird out of the oven.  The woman prepared the stuffing the day before by letting a loaf and a half of pulled bread dry in a bowl on the counter while she sautéed the onion and celery in a fry pan with butter.  Poultry seasoning, salt, and pepper were added to the bread once it had sufficiently dried.  Giblets cooked on the stove combined their essence to the stuffing to achieve the correct amount of liquid. Stuffing should not be too dry or moist.  Soggy dressing pulled from the turkey would never do. Skilled hands scooped the dressing by handfuls and stuffed it into the cavity of the bird.  Skewers pierced the skin to hold the dressing in place. Butter was melted to baste the skin and salt and pepper were sprinkled liberally over the turkey.  Then it was carefully placed in the roasting pan and put in the oven by stronger hands to bake.
               Now with the cooked turkey resting on the carving board the official carver of the family was called to perform.  The skewers were removed revealing the crunchy part of the dressing next to the skin.  A hand moved quickly and stole a pinch of dressing. A bowl appeared and the dressing was scooped out of the bird and into the waiting bowl.  Another hand appeared but was shoved away before it could succeed in its mission.  The bowl was whisked to the table where no one dared eat without being summoned.
               The ancient turkey carving knife appeared with a newer fork.  A wing was released and a hand grabbed it and ran away.  The legs were removed next and carved to release their meat.  Soon more hands appeared, but not to help the carver.  I sat under the carving table hoping to remain invisible.  The carver’s large torso helped him fend off the attack.  He would block the bird with his body preventing snatches of meat from disappearing.  More hands attacked and lips smacked together in joy tasting the juicy fresh cut meat. The knife resting on the board brought a fresh round of eager turkey hunters and the carver poked ribs and tickled the attackers among squeals of laughter.  While the adults played at their turkey fight, my hand reached from under the table and succeeded in grabbing a morsel.
               Grandmother appeared and pretended to scold us all as she declared that dinner was ready to be served and we must all come to the table at once and stop all the shenanigans because the meal would be cold.
               Climbing out from under my hiding place I reached for another bite and my hand was playfully smacked.  The carver had a twinkle in his eye and when I turned, he rewarded me with a big hunk of dressing.  Family and friends gathered around the laden table, held hands, and gave thanks to God for the blessings of home and family.