Inside, I am a 6-year-old child. When I’m spooked, no amount of rationalization can fix it. I know there are no monsters in the hallway, but late at night I still freak out crossing to the bathroom. It’s that lively imagination o’ mine. (I believe I’ve spoken before about the vampires that hang out by our compost pile.)
Slight change of subject: We’ve taken to choosing a large amount of one type of meat and cooking it to last all week long. Last week we made steaks/soup/stroganoff, this week: turkey.
Something you’ll need to know: Have you ever seen a breast-only turkey with all the limbs lopped off? From the top it looks like a turkey, but the bottom…… oh, the bottom……. with the open cavity……*jibblie*
On Sunday I did a rush thaw job and put the breast upside-down in a crock-pot full of brine (trying to save dishes) and stashed it in the downstairs fridge before we went to Lincoln. When we came home I got it out of the fridge, set in on the floor, closed the fridge, looked at it, then had a breakdown.
Lauren: “Lloooyyyyd! Come down here, please!” (I may have forgotten the please.)
Lloyd: “What for?”
Lauren: “I need you to carry something, please.”
He came downstairs.
Lauren: “I need you to carry that upstairs for me. I’ll tell you why later.”
Lloyd, distrustfully eying the crock pot: “Ooooookaaaayyyy…..” He picked it up. “It’s not heavy. Are you hurt?”
Lauren: “No. I’m freaked out.”
Lloyd: “Because of turkey germs?”
Lloyd: “Is it – (looking closer) is it because it looks like a face?”
Lauren (running up the stairs): AHHHHHHH!!!!!
Lloyd: “Cool! It totally looks like a drowning, screaming face!”
Lauren (from three blocks away): AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!