While some people are recovering from the insanity that is Black Friday shopping (what unnecessary electronic on God’s green earth is worth leaving your warm bed at 1am?), I’m wondering how many more meals of turkey and sweet potato casserole we have in our future. Probably six. I believe this is filed under First World Problems.

I may not have fancy china dishes, but I do have silverware that falls into the Very Fancy catergory and I love breaking it out for all big occasions. I keep it in a very secure location in the garage- between a digital picture frame and a pile of Christopher’s uniform jackets. Obviously Martha Stewart keeps her holiday silverware in a similar location. 

I thought I’d be smart and do Thanksgiving dinner shopping on Tuesday. Avoid the rush and all that. I normally don’t shop at the commissary, but I had to return a book at the post library and the commissary is right across the way. I’ve scientifically calculated the best time to shop at the commissary and unfortunately I missed the golden window this week. Either that or everyone else has also discovered the golden window. Whatever the situation, I was shopping with about 252 other people. If you’ve ever shopped at the commissary, can you agree that its name is a compound word made up of communal and misery

Some flowers to keep you from hyperventilating as you think of your own traumatic shopping experiences. 

Christopher met me there and we had a slight conundrum when it came to selecting a turkey. We were the only ones eating it so we didn’t want a 26 pounder, but we also wanted more than a turkey breast. We thought we solved the problem when we discovered the perfect sized little turkey. Except we couldn’t tell if it was a turkey or a chicken. All the wrapper said was roaster. It was in the turkey section, but I put my money on it being a chicken. PROBLEM IN THE MEAT DEPARTMENT. We didn’t want to purchase mystery meat so we put a 10lb hunk of frozen meat that clearly said turkey on the label into the carriage/cart/buggy/whatever and called it a day.  


I don’t mean to boast, but I was proud of the first turkey I cooked on my own. Even if it did look like a chicken.