There’s No Going Back Now

I just reserved my fresh Thanksgiving turkey from a local turkey farmer, an actual turkey farmer! Rancher? Grower? I have no idea. I also have no idea what form a fresh turkey arrives in from the turkey farmer/rancher/grower but, am really hoping it doesn’t involve the need for me to chop off any vital body parts, such as a head. I never would have imagined such a possibility had it not been suggested by the Man-Cub who, on a totally unrelated topic, has his very first pimple.

This latest development seems to have left him, in equal parts, proud and embarrassed and is obviously quite a big deal to the Cub. In fact, he seemed genuinely nonplussed when he asked me when I had gotten my first pimple and I could not recall; the offhand comment I made about my mother neglecting to note the date in my baby book being far less well-received than one might hope. Pre-teens, so prickly.

Also prickly? Turkey feathers. Which I just pictured arriving, intact, on my Thanksgiving bird. That doesn’t happen, right? Farm-fresh turkeys still arrive at your home naked, headless and with their innards in a nice little baggie, right?

Please, someone, tell me I’m right. All this stressing is likely to cause me to break out in pimples of my own and, should that happen, I would be decidedly less proud than the Cub, I assure you.