DISCLAIMER: I am by no means an expert on any topic I choose to write about from here on out, but maybe the things that I've gone through or are going through currently relate to you and can help you in some way. At the very least, you can laugh at/with me, remembering that one time that maybe you too felt like a complete moron, as I go through the many Mishaps of an Almost Adult.
It was 1997 and my family was living in Cooper City, Florida, a suburb of Fort Lauderdale. We had just moved to Florida that summer before and were ready to celebrate our first ever Floridian holiday season. Seeing as we hardly knew anyone in South Florida and the rest of our relatives were in the Midwest, my maternal grandparents decided they would come and visit us for Thanksgiving to keep us company.
It was 1997 and my family was living in Cooper City, Florida, a suburb of Fort Lauderdale. We had just moved to Florida that summer before and were ready to celebrate our first ever Floridian holiday season. Seeing as we hardly knew anyone in South Florida and the rest of our relatives were in the Midwest, my maternal grandparents decided they would come and visit us for Thanksgiving to keep us company.
Our house was strangely one of the only two story houses in our neighborhood. The downstairs featured extremely high ceilings (about 12 feet) and was comprised of the family room, dining room, kitchen, and then there was an "outdoor room" that was a screened in pool/patio under an overhang. I know, you're sitting here saying, "Okay, Aimee, I'm done reading, you've lost your touch. Why on earth do I care about the layout of your house?" Trust me, its important.
Thanksgiving morning looked like a pretty typical day in any American house. My mom and my Grandmother were in the kitchen making side dishes and desserts while my dad and Grand-daddy were left in charge of the meat.
My dad, ever the adventurous type, decided that he was tired of waiting 128745 hours for a turkey to cook in the oven, so he was going to try something new this year. He was going to smoke the turkey. On the grill. (Go ahead, shake your head, cover your eyes, you can see where this is going.)
My brother and I were contently sitting in the family room doing what 11 and 14 year old kids did best in 1997... playing the new Goldeneye 007 for N64. I had this addiction to using the rocket launcher at all times, making my kill count awesome. Except I died every time as well. And lost. Repeatedly. But that's beside the point. Our central location gave us the perfect view of both the kitchen and the grill out on the patio to witness what happened next.
While chatting with Grand-daddy, my mom went out to the grill to check the temperature of the turkey. When she opened the lid, it wasn't just her eyebrows that hit the roof. Flames shot up and hit the ceiling as if a special effect in our 007 game. My mom was just standing there with her bangs and eyebrows about to be singed off, staring wide-eyed at the grill and trying to figure out how to get these massive flames out. Grand-daddy, ever the calm one, walked up to my mom and said these three epic words.
"Close the lid."
Everyone gawked as my mom slowly grabbed the lid to the grill and closed it back over the turkey, thus putting out the flames. Grand-daddy came and turned down the grill, and then removed the turkey. Please imagine Eric and I sitting in the family room, controllers in hand, jaws on the floor, as we're noticing the scorch marks on the ceiling of our back porch, providing evidence, that yes, we just saw 8 foot flames coming off our dinner.
"Close the lid."
Everyone gawked as my mom slowly grabbed the lid to the grill and closed it back over the turkey, thus putting out the flames. Grand-daddy came and turned down the grill, and then removed the turkey. Please imagine Eric and I sitting in the family room, controllers in hand, jaws on the floor, as we're noticing the scorch marks on the ceiling of our back porch, providing evidence, that yes, we just saw 8 foot flames coming off our dinner.
Surely our dinner was doomed, but something like a little charred skin wasn't about to stop my dad and Grand-daddy from providing for their family. They carved and carved and carved that turkey until they removed all of the burnt part and everyone got a little bit of turkey for dinner that night. Thanksgiving had been saved. Funny part is, I'm pretty positive they spent more time carving that dang turkey than it would have taken to just bake it in the oven.
Those scorch marks were still on the ceiling above the grill when we moved out of that house three years later and headed for Indiana. I hope the people who moved in after us made up some kind of good story as to how they got there.
My family still uses the phrase "Close the lid." for any kind of stressful situation. Don't know what to do? Close the lid. Kill the flames. End it.
Are you prepared to handle holiday stress? Mishaps is here to help!
- Need to travel to see your family like me? Check out How To: Take a Trip with Frugal for some budget travel tips!
- Tired of your relatives asking you "So what are you doing these days?" Read How To: Walk Uphill Both Ways for advice on readjusting your life plan.
- Ready to watch football all day? Don't know the first thing about sports? Fake it with How To: Take or Fake an Interest in Sports.
- Are you the only single one in your family? Change that with How To: Find 50 First Dates. Or at least laugh hysterically at my horrible date story to make yourself feel a little better.
- Pants don't fit after you ate all of that non-burnt turkey? Get some dieting tips with How To: Move On from Ramen.
- Need some new things to talk about with your parents other than the weather? Read How To: Have an Adult Relationship with your Parents.
- If all else fails, close the lid.
My dad said he's going to smoke the turkey this year... Here's hoping he was kidding.
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