Dear Tom

When I saw you at Costco the other day, I was so impressed! Your body spoke to me as you sat among your friends. It said, "I am yours! Do with me what you will!" I was immediately taken. There among your friends, you weren't the most grandiose but you were certainly the best I'd seen until then!

I snatched your 24 lb frozen body and hefted it into my shopping cart, the first leg of your trip to my Thanksgiving dinner table.

Mr. Tom, you weren't alive 6 years ago when I hosted a Thanksgiving dinner when one of your pen-fellows was supposed to grace my table. He wasn't so large as you, about 4 lbs. lighter but he never made it to my table in one piece. His little stubborn spirit wouldn't allow himself to cook fast enough to be done by 2pm. Poor little guy was carved up and barbequed so that my guests weren't left in the lurch.

Oh please Mr. Tom. Please don't embarrass me this year. Please have mercy on this wretched cook and be a good little, I mean big turkey. Do me proud and pop out of the oven right on time, brown and crispy and beautiful! If you do, I promise that you will be the center of attention for 10 whole minutes as we gaze hungrily upon your beautiful body, anticipating the moment when we can be one with you.

Here's to an oven that works...

Love, Amy