Semester Grades

I am pleased to report that Scott received his grades for his first semester. I'm even more excited about his marks to use the Little House on the Prairie venacular.



P MGT 632 Quantitative Decision An A 3.0 Fall 2008 MAJOR
P MGT 662 Communication in Public A- 3.0 Fall 2008 MAJOR
P MGT 684 Administrative Environme A- 3.0 Fall 2008 MAJOR
P MGT 612 Econ Dec Making for Mana A- 3.0 Fall 2008 MAJOR
P MGT 641 Organizational Behavior A- 3.0 Fall 2008 MAJOR
P MGT 642R Executive Lectures in Pu A 0.5 Fall 2008 MAJOR

Hooray for Scotty! Way to go! Now how exactly should husbands be compensated for such good grades? That will take some further thought.

In addition, I received my own set of grades. My marks are as follows:

• HM MGT 632 Cooking for Scott's team on the fly - A
• HM MGT 662 Budgeting - B+
• HM MGT 684 Special Editor for Scott's Papers - A
• HM MGT 612 Buyer of Proper Snowgear - C-
• HM MGT 641 Holding the family fort down in all aspects - A
• HM MGT 642R Being Scott's number one cheerleader - A
• HM MGT 681 Laundry - D

As you can see, I need to repeat a few courses to pull up a couple of grades. At least I have a few more semesters for that.

When do you call the fire department?

I wish I could say I was busy cleaning the toilet or something but actually, I was busy at the computer when Emma and Grace decided to pop some microwave popcorn. Grace is the instigator and Emma the "go to" gal. With combined efforts, the bag of popcorn made it into the microwave and the timer set. I got updates from Emma like, "Mom, I pushed the wight buttons!", "I can mell the popcone cooking." Great, I respond, type, type, typing away. Suddenly, Emma runs to me and says "Mom, come he-o quick." I run to the kitchen to see smoke billowing out of the microwave and this number on the microwave screen.

Emma then says, "oh, dang. I pushed the wong numb-o." Don't worry, I say. Good job for trying! Smoke is now stinking up the house, the bag of popcorn is now smoldering in the garbage can outside and all the doors in the middle of a welcomed snowstorm are open. My fire-alarm guard cat, pumpkin, is meowing to make sure I know that the smoke is burning all of our throats and Emma is yelling for me to shut the doors because it's too cold. I don't think anyone can be harmed from popcorn smoke inhalation. The throat burning is dying down, thank goodness. I'm sure it will ultimately be to blame for some sort of cancer I'll get later in life. Nice to have another excuse besides all that eco-friendly stuff I refuse to believe in.

The other thought that went through my mind at the height of the emergency: Oh great, what if I have to call the fire department and there are rice krispies spilled all over the floor! That would be embarassing.

My sweet cohorts...

The Tale of the Twenty Four Pound Tom Turkey

I chuckled to myself when people would ask me, "are you going home for Thanksgiving?" My mental response usually was, "umm, we've been married for 12 years, home is where we are living which is here." I'm proud to report that I didn't let myself get melancholy once this week in thinking about how many Thanksgivings we've actually spent totally alone as a family. (A majority of them) It's a badge of honor. I love my little family and glad I get to share the holidays with them.

We were pleased to be able to help Scott's cousins adjust to their first Thanksgiving without their parents (Scott's aunt and uncle are on a mission). We are pros. They were kind enough to invite us to their Thanksgiving dinner and our contribution was the turkey. Wait, did I say "OUR", I meant to say SCOTT'S contribution was the turkey. I cannot take credit for the spectacularly cooked turkey Scott pulled off. Did I marry well, or what? Scott is a fabulous chef and he did an awesome job. Don't worry, I contributed in the things I do best: worker bee in the final hours of the meal preparation, setting the table and documenting the day with photos. I'm really good at fawning over those who did cook. Really, it's a gift I have.

Here we go, the pictorial tale of the 24 pound tom turkey:

Preparing the brew to brine the turkey for 18 hours prior to cooking. Thanks "myfoxutah" for the recipe. Think a lot of salt, some honey and spices in a lot of water and broth.

Scott removing the sacred neck and gizzards. When Scott asked for something to hold them in, I responded with, "how about a trash can." No go. The organs stayed. Luckily he boiled them while I was away at Twilight with Becca. I'm also refraining from posting the close-up shot of the turkey neck. You're welcome.

Scott wrestling the bad boy into the oven roasting bag that would eventually hold the brine. When he called me to assist, I did what I do best, "hold on, let me take a picture first." Luckily, the turkey didn't end up on the floor due to the delay.

Onto the next day, THE day. Scott trying the initial roasting pan.

I feel like I'm going to bust out of my britches once in a while too. Have to move on to PLAN B: run home and get the other roasting pan that my dad gave me a few years back. My dad did not chintz on kitchen wares. Thanks Big Vern! We were thinking about you and know you would be so proud!

Unfortunately, an amputation was still necessary. Off the wings came but don't worry, we are provident livers here, the wings got tucked in underneath the bird so they wouldn't go to waste. I mean, really, we have to keep the dumb gizzards for heaven's sake. You think he was going to let the wings go? No way, jose.

All dressed (massaged, spiced, and who knows what else) and ready to go!

After a few hours (and a full choreography of turning the oven up and down, putting on the foil, taking off the foil, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight)....

The cook's job is never done. Here he is pictured with the hostess with the mostest, cousin Julie. (By the way, those are construction paper turkey feathers on the door behind Julie, not a special cap she made for the occasion.)

Carving away. Glad a 24-pound turkey can feed 13 adults and 12 kidlets.

We were especially lucky to have Becca and Kyle (niece and her hubby) to share in the turkey glory. They were kid entertainers extraordinaire! Such a handsome couple!

Grace enjoying some mashed potatoes.

With Scott's cousins, we change the song from "grab your partner" to "grab your baby"! We were so lucky to be included with such a festive group.

What I haven't photographed are the ziploc bags full of turkey bones and leftover meat that Scott dreams about making turkey stock and sandwiches with. Although he has made a couple of sandwiches, he is almost up on his turkey stock-making days. I have an internal clock that informs me when it is politically correct to toss them.

Awesome job Scotty! You made one of my least favorite foods so yummy!