I’m not gonna lie, there have been times throughout this year when, in my head, I can hear Barbara Walters saying, “This is 2020”. I can’t help but think that she was somehow warning us all those years ago. Every week she said the same thing and did we listen? Nope.

Thanksgiving preparations this year began with a decision to divide and celebrate in smaller groups. We did this for our three elderly family members, who were somewhat uncomfortable with our normal gathering of 24. Being considerate of us, they had said they’d stay home. Being considerate of them, we divided into three, much smaller celebrations. It was still Thanksgiving, just not what we’re used to.  But, this was just the beginning…

Three legs. I took the turkey out of its wrappings and discovered it had three legs. Now, before you freak out and think we ordered our bird from the Chernobyl Turkey Farm, only two of the legs were attached. The third leg was stuck inside the cavity. My mind did wander to the idea that it had a twin that didn’t make it or something, but realized it was probably just a bonus; like maybe the guy at the packing plant found an extra leg on the floor and stuck it inside the next bird on the conveyor belt. So, I just washed it really well and cooked it like it belonged. It may be 2020, but we can still be kind.

The fun part of all of this was mentioning to different family members that the turkey had three legs to see their reactions. My own children just looked at me like they knew better than believe me and said, “Oh yeah?” and walked away. Most, but not all. When I mentioned it to my daughter-in-law, she looked like she almost believed that the turkey had three legs attached to its body. She’s artsy. Moving on…

The baster. I admit I’ve had this baster for a few years and I know they don’t come with a lifetime warranty, but our baster chose this year to die. It was deceitful in it’s death. I tested it the day before to make sure I didn’t need a new one. It worked just fine. Of course it was only sucking cold water, but still, no indication whatsoever that it would die the next day part way through its most important task. It worked for the first baste and then decided it had sucked up its last drippings and stopped. After that, nothing. I squeezed gently and spoke softly to encourage it along. I squeezed as hard as I could, thinking it needed stronger encouragement and finally had to conclude with Bones from Star Trek, “It’s dead, Jim.”

Not to be outdone by its bulbous friend, the meat thermometer decided it didn’t want to work either. They spend a lot of time together in the same drawer. I’m sure it was a conspiracy. I never would have known if the turkey hadn’t been cooking for almost two hours and still only registered 60 on the meat thermometer. I poked it in all different parts of the bird. I even poked the third leg. 60 was all I got. Not wanting to just take my chances with our 20 pound, three-legged friend and guess when it might be done; I borrowed my daughter’s meat thermometer and realized I was correct. The meat thermometer had also died.

What do a three-legged turkey, a dead turkey baster, and a faulty meat thermometer all have in common? The sound of Barbara Walters in my head reciting once more, “This is 2020”. In spite of it all, our Thanksgiving was blessed. I hope yours was, too! Let’s all remember it’s almost over…2020, it’s really not that big a deal!