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Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Here: Use the Special Glasses. Don’t Look At It Directly.

I didn’t go work on Monday.

Seems I had developed an eye problem. Seven inches of snow had fallen over night, and I couldn’t see going to work.

That’s what the Personal Day is for, yes?

And as the day wore on, I realized how much, personally, I like days off: the house is clean, dinner is on the stove, the candles are lit.

I stopped running in circles, and I done bin cozified.

When one is caught up, and one finally has the time to sneak a cigarette on the Frozen Porch of Sneakitude, one discovers the time to really look around.

Did I see the beauty of the swirling cape of snow that has engulfed Minnesota, the tiny snowplow clearing one of the three ice rinks across the street? Did I see the cars on the wrong side of the road, the ones that would be towed by the City of Minneapolis?

Did I see the man who fell on his butt in front of the house, promptly jumping up, brushing himself off as if it was something he had meant to do?

Well, yes, I did, but I also caught sight of my largest pot, three-quarters full, tucked into a corner.

You know the pot, right? The one that had been sitting at one end of the porch, full of turkey soup, since the day after Thanksgiving?

I wouldn’t think too much about that if I were you. While the contents of the porch have been frozen solid, for, oh, most of the last two months, it’s also been warm enough to sit out there – almost comfortably.

“Comfort” being a relative term, particularly if you’re Minnesotan.

In other words, you could try the soup, but I don’t recommend it without proper medical insurance.

But why? Why is there a large pot of antique turkey soup on my porch?

Right up until the day before Thanksgiving, I had been operating under the impression that the holiday festivities would be held at my house. A turkey the dimensions of a good-sized dog had thawed in the fridge, there was 20-some pounds of Yukon Gold taters in the pantry ready for peeling and in keeping with Murphy’s Law, that anything that could go wrong would go wrong, I had developed Swine (H1N1) Flu – or, as it is known around our house, The Heinie.

As much as it killed me to cancel, I was forced to call my mother, two hours away, who, with 24 hours’ notice, pulled together what was, by all accounts, a fabulous turkey dinner with all the side dishes and pies that the family has come to expect.

On Thanksgiving Day, therefore, as I lie on the couch, feverishly watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy, covered with recumbent cats, my brains leaking out of my ears, Big Willie roasted our turkey, made mashed potatoes, gravy, and did, for one and-a-half people, what we had planned on doing for 15.

The leftovers were divided into a variety of Tupperware and Cool Whip containers for lunches, and it was Thanksgiving every day for a week.

While grateful, this felt wrong to me, somehow.

Feeling that I had not pulled my weight, I hauled my feeble self off the couch and did what I felt I needed to do:

I wrestled that turkey carcass into the largest pot I had and I made soup; and, the refrigerator full, I put it on the porch for cold storage.

Then I felt dreadful for two days.

And neither Willie nor I mentioned the turkey soup out on the porch again.

So you can imagine my surprise this afternoon.

That soup is still out there.

Funny, isn’t it, the things you see when you stop running around?


Kurt said...

Listen, I'm all in favor of putting turkey soup in time-out if it's not behaving, but someone is going to call Poultry Protective Services on you if you're not careful.

powdergirl said...

I'd offer to try if for ya, screen for plagues and bacteria, that good stuff. But I sadly, I don't like turkey, or its soup.

If it was chicken....

Yup, I've left the odd 'cold storage' out on the deck too.

Thank God for coyotes, thats all I can say.

Smocha said...

At least the shit is cold. When my second son was born my mother came to see me . Little did I know that she had make a chicken casserole in my electric skillet .....until I lifted the lid off of it 3 weeks later.
When I regained consiousness I realized that throwing the skillet away would be best.

Krëg said...

I've always called that condition anal glaucoma. You know, "I can't see my @$$ coming in to work today". It usually strikes me when spring is in full swing.

Did you offer the soup a cigarette? It's probably sentient by now.

ellen abbott said...

I can see it clear as day. I may have done something similar once upon a time but unfortunately, it doesn't freeze here for months at a time.

Molly Potter said...

I have never come across a frozen bucket of turkey soup or mastered sneakitude because I make too much noise at all times. Up uintil today's details - we were living parallel lives.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

I have a wasp trapped under a glass in the living room from Christmas Eve. I think turkey on the porch takes it though.

Douglas said...

Think of it as a biology experiment. Leave it there. Just imagine what incredible flora and fauna might rise from that pot come Spring and, quite possibly, take over as the dominant life form in Minnesota. You will thereafter be known as "Mother Pearl".

Vic said...

The only thing that stays on our porch indefinitely is the neighbor boy.

I think antique turkey soup, even defrosted, is fresher smelling.

Jimmy Bastard said...

Holy mother of god, I'm still getting the dry heaves just thinking about that frozen, not to mention neglected, turkey soup!

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

Too bad you didn't put a stick in the middle of it, thereby making turkey-sicles.

BugginWord said...

Do you think it fermented? Turkey wine sounds kinda festive, doncha think?

Irisheyes said...

Turkey Wine, Turkey-sicles all sound mighty fine, but I hope you won't be insulted if I ask you to try the first taste. Mmmmmm....

Cal's Canadian Cave of Coolness said...

Sweet, the abuse of the sick day.

When even the squirrels or raccoons won't take the bus to your place to get some free Turkey soup you gotta know that's bad. Right? You shouldn't even be cooking for prisoners.

I advise you not to look in the basement. Who knows what you got buried under the floor, just left for 'storage'? OMG I know too much. If you kill me I will tell.

Anonymous said...

I'm not even thinking of the soup.

You had me rolling on the floor, at least my version of it, with your first sentence. So funny.
I hope you'll let me use that, not blogging but in life. I have an eye problem. I can't see going to work in this weather. I'm still laughing.
If I do use in blog, I'll give you credit.

lisleman said...

I found an easter egg that had been hidden in my mom's garage for oh, twenty years. egg salad anyone?
Suggest you call the local university and check if they need some bacteria/mold/micro-organism stuff.

Anonymous said...

Aw, come on. Give it a try. A little aging never hurt any foodstuff. In the Cook Islands they eat potato salad that has been sitting in warm tropical windows, no lie. I refrained from trying it, however. Vacation diarrhea is not to be hankered after.
Otherwise, I wish you lived in my neighborhood so we could meet for coffee and you could regale me in person as much as you do with your writings.

Jeanne said...

Has it been frozen the whole time? Or just off and on? (Down here, it would definitely be off and on, but up there....)

CatLadyLarew said...

Personally, I think you should offer the broth to the Jefferson Hillbillies down the street.

SweetPeaSurry said...

Turkey porch soup, I think it should be prepared at thanksgiving each year from now on! Brilliant!

Suzy said...

Can you please have that pot of turkey sent to my upstairs neighbors? I hate them and want them to disappear in a not very obvious way, like Death By Soup.

Gadjo Dilo said...

Turkey must be a kind of cure-all, like chicken soup but bigger nad better!

Janie at Sounding Forth said...

Oh, girl, you crack me up, you do! Thanks for making me laugh, even though it does hurt!

Tempo said...

Ahh! it will be fine...taste improves with age dont you know. Just warm it through when it thaws enough to get the pot unstuck and invite the family around to enjoy... Go on! take a chance.

When Pigs Fly said...

These are the things one can do in Minnesota. The temperature never rises above freezing so leaving leftovers outside for months on end is not a problem. We did have that nice little upswing in temps last week but as I got up this morning to go to the gym, the temp gauge said 4 degrees.
Ah, the joys of living in the arctic.