3.23.08

Today goes down in our family's book titled "Remember That (insert holiday) When..."

It started out innocently with an 8 lb turkey and one of those cleverly sucky turkey fryers that never seem to work. After submerging the turkey in the boiling hot oil, and then having a classic "Uh oh, I think we're running out of propane" moment, my step-dad did what any man would do. He quickly picked up the bucket of murderous oil, sashayed through the garage, into the living room, onto the back deck and plopped it on the gas grill side burner.

Now, I say sashayed, but really it involved much stumbling, red cheeks, and shouting "Get the dogs out of the way!"

So after Matt, Mom and I fearfully watched from the living room as he fiddled with the grill and cursed at the "damn turkey," he collected himself, came inside and proudly announced that dinner would be ready in 15 minutes. No one said a word, I think out of said fear. You don't mess with this man's meat and potatoes. He's that kind of man.

About 10 minutes later, he went back out on the deck to check on his masterpiece, only to come flying back into the house seconds later. He got to the front entryway, looked left, looked right, then dashed down the stairs to the basement. I haven't seen the man move like this in... well, ever. I turned my head to see what was happening on the deck and saw flames. FLAMES. Shooting out of the turkey! Ok, not really. They were shooting out from under the pot of boiling oil that held the turkey, but still. The grill is hooked up to a propane line that runs from under the house or next to it or down the road. Who knows. All I know is it's a long pipe and not the normal tank. The kind of pipe that could explode and send flames all along the very house in which we stood.

In lightning speed, Kirk raced out of the basement, down to the lake, onto the boat, dug through the seat compartments, ran back up the hill, back up the basement steps and pulled the pin on a fire extinguisher. And here ends the fried Easter turkey.

The moral of the story? Don't waste your time on frying a damn turkey. Just do it the right way. (Or have ham like the rest of the country.)