Snap! Crackle! Pop!

These Horns Were Made for Tooting

Today, share something you love about yourself  — don’t be shy, be confident! — but that few other people know about you or get to see very often.


You would never guess it by the crap  I eat now, but back in my child rearing days I was a pretty good cook

I loved to dice, chop, slice and saute.

And most of what I cooked or baked I worked on from scratch.

But I did, after awhile start to have trouble at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

For those holidays I made turkey- never ham. My dad did a great ham and unless I could turn something out that tasted as half as good I didn’t bother.

Here’s when the trouble started.

When I went to work in the Funeral Home, you could not rattle my cage. I could do reconstructions or an embalming for hours at a time. After spending most of the day working with death and corpses I eventually would look up at the clock and when lunch time rolled around I’d finish up, grab a car and race down to one of the three nearby burger joints.

I could eat like a horse after doing that work.

But…yes the mighty BUT one Thanksgiving I was cleaning the turkey- I reached into the cavity and my stomach clenched up and I almost barfed all over the bird.

I pulled my hand out and took a breath.

I thought I was coming down with the flu- which figured I always got sick around the holidays.

After I got myself together I tried again and this time I did puke- I made it to the sink and I heaved so loud I think I ruined my kid’s and husband’s appetites for the rest of the holidays.

We got the bird cleaned and stuffed and I felt fine for the rest of the day.

That is until Christmas rolled around and the same thing happened- and over the years I got somebody else to clean out the bird and stuff it because the thought of putting my hand into that carcass turns my gut.

I could embalm, I could do reconstructions I could treat the dead no matter what condition they were in with care and dignity.

But to this day I cannot stand to put my hand in a turkey.

Something in me broke and I guess it’s going to stay that way.

Because I am