Congratulate me, folks. Like the 29 seasons of Survivor, I Outwitted, Outlasted, Outplayed and survived the curse of the Thanksgiving Holiday—cooking the big bird. OORAH!
Go ahead and scoff if you will, but how many women “of a certain age” can truthfully say they have NEVER roasted a turkey on Thanksgiving?
I knew a woman once who tried to fake a sprained wrist by wrapping an ace bandage on her arm just before it was time to stuff the bird – but nobody bought her ploy. She was voted off the couch and forced to cook the entire dinner herself.
When I was younger, avoiding the bird roasting was easier than earning a Survivor challenge reward. I just maneuvered to go to a relative’s house or away on vacation. When I was older, I got lucky and married someone who knew how to cook. But that’s when the game got tougher.
At first, Garth assumed the turkey task would be mine. However, he soon found out I would resort to devious manipulations to gain immunity from baking the bird.
Garth: “Isn’t it your year to make the turkey?”
Me: “Nope - wrote it on the calendar - your turn.”
Garth: “Isn’t it about time to get the bird in the oven?”
Me: “Sorry, I have to watch the Twilight Zone marathon.”
Garth: “I can’t cook the bird this year, I have a headache.”
Me: “I have just the cure.”
If none of those arguments created a strong alliance, however, I pulled out the heavy artillery—my Scarlett silver bullet.
When the going gets tough, I morph into one of my Scarlett O’Hara routines. As you may recall from an earlier blog post on how I suffer from Scarlett Procrastination Syndrome, I rely on her tactics a lot.
Eyelashes a-flutter, I saunter over to Garth, and with my best Southern drawl, declare, “The preparation of such a large bird is just too, too difficult a task for poor, delicate li’l ole me. It takes a big strong man, such as yourself, to handle such an important and heavy responsibility.”
Don’t ask me how it works, but it does. Guess it’s like finding the hidden immunity idol—you gotta know when to pull it out at the right time in order to save yourself. Now, when Garth brings up the subject every year, I just hold up a picture of Tara and he sulks off in defeat.
I think I’m getting pretty good at this. Maybe I should apply to be on the TV show. After all, I’ve been the sole survivor of the turkey tussle a lot longer than 29 seasons. I should be able to Outwit, Outlast and Outplay a few human turkeys with no problem—unless they ask me to eat bugs or something.
Wonder what Scarlett would do to survive that tribal council?