The Time I Almost Ruined Thanksgiving Eating A Milky Way


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Anyone who knows me is aware that I have no business in a kitchen, especially on a holiday in which a feast in being prepared. I drop things, I forget stuff, I have zero patience or coordination – a combination of attributes that don’t oft result in the creation of succulent, flavorful, not-burnt-to-a-crisp meals. On this day traveling delays would cause several qualified, meal-prep capable family members to be late thus, I was thrust in to fill that void.

This was an opportunity to step up and come through in the clutch when I was desperately needed. What I lacked in skill and experience would need to be made up for in focus and perseverance – seems reasonable, right? It quickly became evident that there was zero trust in my abilities, or lack thereof. I was washing things and peeling stuff and stirring junk, nothing that felt important. I complained for a while until eventually, turkey responsibility was bestowed upon me. Everyone was leaving to greet my incoming family members leaving me alone with the turkey. Yes, TURKEY, the most important piece of the entire meal.

It was prepared and in the oven, all I had to do was monitor its progress. Determined to remove it from the oven at the appropriate time, I set an alarm. Even though this isn’t ancient times like 2003 or something, I still use clocks instead of phones to set my alarms. While waiting and watching TV, I indulged in a bowl of miniature Milky Way bars. There they sat, remnants of Halloween in a bright orange colored bowl that featured a cartoony ghoul and the word “BEWARE,” which in retrospect might’ve been the universe’s way of foreshadowing the disastrous near future.

While lounging around devouring one delicious miniature treat after another as if these Milky Ways were galaxies being gobbled by black holes, something happened. I was lying in the chair horizontally instead of upright, when I suddenly kicked over the small table next to me. I don’t know if it was excitement from the football game or a jolt sent via sugar rush that led to my somewhat involuntary leg movement, but there were seemingly hundreds of thousands of miniature Milky Ways everywhere. I had to move the couch as I refused to leave a single bar behind. Then, I went back to watching football.

Hours went by as I watched/napped, waking sporadically to eat another Milky Way before dozing back off. I knew the turkey had a couple hours to go when I initially placed it in, but it felt like a few had passed. I took a look at the clock. It was blank. Then it hit me — when I knocked over the table the clock had been yanked unplugged and my take-out-the-turkey notification became non-existent. I ran to the oven, terrified of the result. I had to face the inevitable music. I pulled the oven door open and… saw the most aesthetically pleasing, gorgeous turkey ever. How? I don’t know, perhaps my subconscious set an internal alarm or something, but I wasn’t asking questions; just thankful I hadn’t ruined dinner.

I reached in my pocket for a celebratory Milky Way and upon removal, elbowed a gigantic, fresh pumpkin pie off of the counter. Shards of glass, pieces of crust and heaps of pumpkin decorated the floor – there was no longer pie but at least I hadn’t ruined the turkey. Also, an abundance of Milky Way bars makes for a much better dessert. 

This post sponsored by the delicious caramel, chocolate and nougat inside every Milky Way®

image – Milky Way