One of my favorite weeks of the year looms on the horizon: Thanksgiving week. I’ve taken off the post T-day Friday for more than 25 years; at that time, I was an itinerant computer systems installer, and the PTDF was spent, ahem, doing paperwork, as official timesheets will show. Truth is, all the paperwork that was involved then centered around the intact removal of labels from bottles of Rhinelander long necks. Those little misclassifications of time spent bothered me after the first year or two, and so my status went to officially off.
The turkey is purchased, we have ample supplies for the smoke pit, the menu has been written. Three days of clock-punching and server wrangling remain. Then we put the bird in the smoker, whomp up the side dishes, and give thanks for being richly blessed.
Wednesday night, we’ll have what is a new Thanksgiving ritual; watching the WKRP episode wherein the misguided station management pushed live turkeys from a helicopter onto the unsuspecting shopping mall patrons below. I think that’s the only episode we’ve watched out of that DVD collection.
Which reminds me, I’ve gotta hunt up that DVD, so all can be in readiness, and we can hear yet again that immortal line:
The turkeys are hitting the ground like sacks of wet cement.
-k-
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Tonite we watched WKRP on WGN and were talking about the infamous episode with the turkeys being tossed from the helicopter. “What? Turkeys can’t fly?”