Olaina After School
So far I have: purchased the turkey and put it into the fridge.
Just now (9:43 p.m. I'm sitting on the couch and stealing myspace friends from my myspace friends (geeking out, I know, but in the coolest way I know how) and he's in the kitchen with the bird ("Tom" (same name every year, chosen by the boy cooking the bird):
Justin: [from the kitchen] Can you do me a favor sweetheart?
O: Yeah, sure. [I type a little more, read a funny bit from Brandon's profile and start moving away from the couch]
J: The sooner the better.
O: I'm on my way! OK. What can I do?
J: Can you move that pot to the other side of the sink? [He's holding a 12 lb. bird and pulling off some shrivelly-looking goose-bumpy skin.]
O: OK. [I do it, and glance askance at Tom from about two steps back.] Do you need anything else? Because I really don't like looking at the bird.
And now here I am blogging, myspacing, while he cuts celery and talks to himself happily about the glory of cooking. I think it helps that we're brining with a recipe Oakley sent that requires Guinness. So now there's an English guy in my kitchen saying, "Oh, it's a happy fridge."
If you don't care about food much, it's good to marry someone who actually likes to cook it.
Meanwhile, I had to remove my paint palette from the shelf because the turkey needed it more than my as-yet-unused dollop of quinacridone magenta.
(And BTW, for those of you who care, I think it's important that you know that Golden acrylic paints are my favorite, whereas Blickrylic is not making me all that happy. Also, I was born on Dec. 9, 1974.) ;)