I’m not flawed, I’m perfect at being imperfect

I had a very unusual day yesterday. I hosted Thanksgiving at my farm-sitting abode and everything went smoothly. Huh? Do you hear them? The angels are singing Hallelujah. I know for a lot or maybe even most of you everything going according to plan is…well…not unusual. For me it is a miracle!

Seeping rock


I have hosted dinners where I thought I had everything in hand but never did. I would forget the bread rolls in the oven and my guests would end up bravely crunching their way through them hoping they wouldn’t lose any teeth. Or, I would forget one of the vegetables, more precisely as my husband says, “one of the twenty seven vegetables to go with the fifteen pounds of meat”. We would end up eating the discovered vegetable as a dessert because, well, I cooked it, it’s part of the dinner. Consequently, everyone would be so stuffed they’d barely have room for the actual dessert and try to politely force it into their mouths whilst trying not to burst.

I’m originally from a large family so for special family events I can’t help but buy the largest roast or turkey and have a myriad of coloured root vegetables and of course brussel sprouts because you should always have brussel sprouts (even if my sons hate them). Don’t worry, all the food gets eaten, usually over several days in sandwiches and soups to which my children complain “not turkey again!”

On one such occasion I had a large group of people coming to dinner and was worried that there might not be enough food for everyone. I bought the largest turkey I could find, thinking it should be good for the several families that were coming. I brought it home proud of myself and eager for the up coming day. I was diligent and made sure I took the bird out well in advance so I would not be struggling to defrost it at the last minute. Thumbs up for me. I set up three tables, one for adults and two for children.

Everything was looking good until I tried to put the turkey in the oven. Apparently this bird was not meant for the everyday sized oven, it was for an outdoor spit, roasting over super hot coals with a large burly man carefully turning it. Okay, thumbs down for me. Between you and I, don’t let my relatives know this…but I pretty much squashed that beast into the oven. I literally had to push it in with both hands. Good so far. It wasn’t until later, after several hours of cooking and guests happily ensconced in their chairs waiting for dinner that I realized there could be a bit of a problem…getting it out. I hadn’t dared open the oven door much, other than to pull off the foil so it could brown. I peered in through the glass like a kid checking out a candy store. Everything looked good, the bird was nicely browned. It seemed ready and the veggies were all done, dinner could be served. So I should go ahead and present my piece de resistance.

My husband was entertaining our guests so I decided to play Hercules and pull the turkey from the oven by myself. I didn’t get to take the turkey out because as soon as I opened the door I realized that the juices had run over the container it was cooking in and charred the bottom burner. The smell of smoke wafted out from the oven and up to the detector above which let out an ear piercing noise to everyone in the house. My husband gallantly arose from the dinner table and announced in a thrilled voice “dinner’s ready!” To which the whole house roared with laughter. My hero came to the rescue, turned off the fire alarm, opened windows, extinguished the wannabe flames in the oven, pulled out the turkey and presented it on the table with a “tadah!” flourish.

Guess, what? The boys had turkey for weeks after.

My sister-in-law reminded me the other day of the time I forgot to make gravy. You’ve got it, it was at the same time as I was cooking gargantuan bird. All I had in the cupboard was chicken noodle soup. I’m not sure if the children will ever forget the worms floating in the gravy bowl. It made for some hilarious laughter though.

Ah! Memories of Christmas’s we’ll never forget or perhaps in my case would like to forget…naaah! It’s all good fun.


The oops! breakfast

The day before yesterday, I had one of my usual mishaps. I put together a very nice healthy breakfast of oatmeal, chia seeds, hemp hearts, bananas, blueberries and a good sized piece of dark chocolate…yummmm! Everything was together in the bowl so I reached into the fridge pulled out a carton and proceeded to pour chicken broth over my delicious meal. Ahhhhh! I wasn’t going to throw it out. It had chocolate in it and that would be a sin to throw away chocolate. I improvized and poured out as much broth as I could. Grabbing the correct carton of almond milk I poured it on and cooked it as normal. Apart from a slightly salty flavour it tasted grrreat!

So there are my reasons why “I’m not flawed, I’m perfect at being imperfect” and proud of it.

About Elanclose Rambles

Author of science-fiction/fantasy series Elanclose. Writing because it keeps me going.
This entry was posted in #flawed, #humor, #imperfect, #perfect and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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