Turkey Time!

So after a ridiculous party at the girls' place on Friday, and the obligatory Saturday recovery and guilt-fest over Wendy's value menu, today is Sunday, and it's a whole new week offering the promise of Chicago, the Region, and IU. There will be some major traveling, major being a relative word. Really, it's nothing compared to some of my whirlwind trips on the Iberian subcontinent and Asia Minor. I only have one more week left of survival, work, and Cambridge, and so Bighead and I decided that to celebrate the end of summer we are making a turkey. (Also, Bighead made pretty good pasta sauce from scratch on Friday, but that's neither here nor there. Neither is his birthday which was a blast, except for the fact that I got tired and cranky. Sorry.)

But on to the turkey! It's in the oven now, it's all buttered up, stuffed with stuffing, and we're just waiting to start the mashed potatoes and broccoli and cranberry sauce that will accompany it. This is a major endeavor. It's the first time we've used the oven, not counting the delicious cookies we make with prefab cookie dough. We're pretty sure it's going to be awesome. We got the bag and everything. The only threats to this turkey are a possibly unreliable oven which may or may not have even heating, and the dreaded gravy. However, after making semi-decent pork gravy, I feel like making turkey gravy will be...well...gravy. Oh, and Bighead bought these red onions that made me weep. It was painful, and I made the mistake of wearing my glasses, so I couldn't wipe my tears on my shoulder, and I couldn't chop with my glasses off because I'm blind.

In other news, I really love Shakira. If there's a better pop artist out there right now, I'd like to know about it. I'm pretty sure once I get to IU on Saturday the Lush and I are going to break out some screaming at the top of our lungs La Tortura over Keystone and hot porch action. I cannot wait for the porch. I think it has a swing, too. This is the problem with not going to school in a city that lives for the college and doesn't have cheap housing for rent. DeWolfe doesn't even have little patios.

In other cooking news, there's some station here that plays classic Julia Child. We're talking vintage "The French Chef." It's amazing. She's so entertaining. Nobody on Food Network can even touch her apron strings. I don't know if it's the voice, the amazonian girth, the brute force of her hands struggling with an unforgiving chicken or what, but it's like watching poetry.

Stay tuned to find out how the bird turns out. Should be interesting. Also, we have no idea why the Butterball turkey hotline exists. It all seemed so easy to do. Perhaps I'm speaking to soon.