Did I tell you about the turkey?

On the night before Thanksgiving, my mother always put the turkey in the oven to cook so her oven would be free on Thanksgiving day to cook other things. This Thanksgiving was no different than any other. I had been out on a date. We had been sitting in the den watching TV until time for my date to go home. As I passed through the kitchen I noticed that the oven light was on, so I stopped and turned it off. I awakened to my mother's high pitched voice of distress Thanksgiving morning. SOMEONE had turned the oven off and her turkey was ruined. Evidently, turkeys go bad pretty quickly. As the kitchen was filled with the smell of rotten eggs, my mother quickly began thinking of another plan for Thanksgiving dinner. We jumped into the car and headed for the single grocery store in our town, that would be open until 12. As we scanned the meat counter, there were only frozen danish hens left. My mother bought all that they had and we left for home. The mystery was still unsolved, as to WHO turned off the oven, and ruined the bird. My mother quickly blamed my bother-in-law because he would sneak and go smoke after we went to bed and she did not care for that at all. So....it sounded good to me. My mother frantically cooked the danish hens and Thanksgiving dinner was a success afterall. Many years later, everyone was coming to my house for Christmas. I had decided I needed to tell my mother that I was the one to turned the oven off, not my brother-in-law. As we gathered around the table I served a dish of cold, hold truth, while everyone's mouth fell open. My mother squealed and broke into her famous laugh as my brother-in-law had not one idea he had been the bad guy for all these years. Little did I know this would be my mother's last Christmas, as cancer took her life. As everyone listened and laughed about the famous Thanksgiving dinner with danish hens, I can still see that sparkle in my mother's eye. There really was never a crisis she could not handle, infact it was a challenge that somehow became fun and funny. I can still see that oven light in that small kitchen with the strawberry wallpaper. I can still hear my mother scream and then meet that turkey smell in the hallway. No one can ever replace her meals, nor her ability to stir a pot of disaster into a table of bountiful food. My mother never met a turkey she couldn't cook or a danish hen she couldn't whip into a feast. Happy Thanksgiving!!! May your meal be full of love, graditude and warmth from good food!!!