Well,
we officially made it through one more Turkey Fry Day. Nathan and Cailyn came over around 8:30 or
9:00, and we kept at it until about 3:30 or 4.
I guess that made it a pretty full workday. It sure felt like it last night (and this
morning), with all the soreness. Nathan
is heading to Corpus for Thanksgiving, but Chris and I have to go to water
exercise class this morning. That’s not
going to be a fun experience.
Back
to the turkeys. We got the fryers set up
and the oil heated up and the first two turkeys going. Then Nathan and I headed over to
WalMart. We needed to trade out our two
reserve propane tanks for full ones. The
guy at the gate said to pay inside first., so we tracked down a clerk. Rita was stocking Christmas stuff, and had a
very sad look on her face. We told her
what we wanted, and she said we needed to bring the empties to the gate first,
then come to her. So we headed back to
the gate. Before we left, though, I
asked her if she was having any fun. Judging
from the quizzical look I got, I guess that was a disarming question. She sighed a deep sigh, dropped her head, and
said a simple, “No, not really.” I
encouraged her to hang in there, and ran to catch up with Nathan. He was at the gate trying to convince the guys
there that the clerk inside told us to drop off the empties first, then
pay. They finally agreed to her
plan. When we finally reached the pay
station again, Rita was still looking kind of gloomy, so I tried striking up a
conversation with her. I told her we
were frying turkeys, and she finally responded with a slight smile. Still forlorn, but a smile nonetheless. “I love fried turkey,” she began, “But I never
get any. No one in my family likes
it. They all want roast and ham.” Wow.
Talk about an Eeyore kind of day.
I couldn’t help myself at that point.
I told her we would bring her some.
She brightened a little bit. I
asked when she got off work. She
brightened a bit more. She even offered,
“I work the holiday, too. All day Thursday.” I’m not sure she really believed me, but she
was warming to the conversation. When we
left she was sporting a real smile. But
that smile was nothing compared to the one that exploded onto her face when I returned
later that afternoon with a drumstick and some white and dark meat
samples. I had to track her down to the break
room, but when she saw me enter, she jumped up from her chair with a huge grin
on her face and engulfed me with a massive hug.
I apologized that it wasn’t really very much, but she said, “It’s
turkey. And it’s for me,” over and over.
I guess we have another forever friend
at WalMart.
Now
back to the turkeys. A few years ago
Chris decided that it would be a good idea to protect the pavers that make up
our patio from any errant droplets of hot oil, should any such remnants manage
to sneak over the side of the pot when a turkey is being lowered in. an admirable idea – on most normal Turkey Fry
Days. But our name is Vaughan, and we don’t
do “normal” very well. This year was no
exception. Early on the newspaper under
one of the pots played host to tiny little pockets of fire as the oil managed
to grasp flame on its way to the ground.
Nathan extinguished those using the lid of the pot and, surprisingly,
another pile of newspapers. But later in
the day we glanced out the window and noticed that the other pot was hosting a
second conflagration. This one was much
bigger than the first. I was elbow deep
in carving turkeys this time, so Nathan and Cailyn and Chris went out to deal
with the situation. April had arrived by
this time, but she stayed indoors, obviously trusting her fire fighter husband
could safely handle any emergency. All
seemed to be going smoothly until Chris burst into the house, laughing so hard
she could barely talk. Through her peals
of laughter, she managed to get out this bit of the story. Seems that Nathan squatted down so he could
do some on the fly teaching with Cailyn.
He was showing her how it wasn’t really the newspaper that was burning. Instead it was the oil on top of the paper. As he talked, though, he began to notice that
things were getting hotter and hotter. A
quick inventory of his premises revealed his dilemma: “My pants are on
fire!” And he managed to get the blaze
under control with minimal damage. And we
didn’t burn the house down or anything. Always
good to have a fire fighter on hand for frying turkeys. Oh, and as a bonus, he was rewarded with the
opportunity to go with his girls to the outlet malls to buy … a new pair of
blue jeans. Well, I have a hunch there were
other purchases in his future as well.
Ephesians
3:16-17 says, “I pray that out of his
glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your
inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.”
Father,
thank you for protecting us through our eleven turkeys this year. Use them to bless somebody else like Rita this
holiday season. Amen.
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