Fred Reed lays out why Hillary lost. Worth reading. Maybe tomorrow.
* * *
This is often the kind of thing that occurs to me. Shooting a man with a knife? They make knife-bullets now?
* * *
Yeah, that's it. What do you want? I've got to get a turkey in the oven.
We invited my father-in-law to come to dinner with us, but after mulling it for a few weeks he demurred. We bought a larger turkey than usual, thinking he'd come, so we're going to have a lot of leftover bird, but that's okay.
I couldn't use Mom's stock pot to brine the thing, though; the bird was too big for it. A 16-lb bird will fit fine, but not a 22-lb bird. I had to get creative; I dug out Mom's roasting pan, and used that. First time I needed the whole two-gallon recipe for the brine, too.
Anyway, got the bird unwrapped and into the roaster, then went to put it in the fridge while I got the brine ready, and it wouldn't fit; rearranged stuff in the door, pulled out one of the door shelves, and presto.
Force-cooled the brine by putting the pot into a sink full of cold water, then put the brine in with the bird. Went to put it back into the fridge, and Mrs. Fungus pointed out that the roasting pan now contained twenty-two pounds of bird and sixteen pounds of water--not quite forty pounds--and that putting that kind of weight on a tempered glass shelf was a recipe for disaster. Realizing she was right, I pulled the shelf, rearranged the door shelves, rearranged the stuff in the fridge, and made it all fit.
The bird has now been brining for better than fourteen hours, so it's time to decant it and get to work on the cooking.
I have much to be thankful for this year.