The Turkey Incident


Do you have a hilarious holiday story? If not, make one up.

Our Dad had been a Chef and it was his job to roast the Christmas Turkey.

His Turkeys were great, they were perfect and he took great pride in his work.

The turkey  skin was golden, the bird was always seasoned and stuffed to perfection. I swear to God when he pulled it out of the oven it looked like something you’d see on a magazine cover or cookbook.


When I was 12 I had saved up my money and bought the most adorable little Alaskan Malamute puppy I named Sham.

I should have named him Godzilla because Sham grew up to be the size of a horse.

Not some regular horse.

Oh no.

He was Clydesdale sized.


Sham never liked being in the house when we were cooking because I think it was too warm for him.

But one Christmas  me and my brother and sister wouldn’t let him out when he asked because we were having fun with him.

Sham was a gentle giant and we had spent the afternoon trying to dress him up like an elf.

You know kids- our parents went to wrap some gifts for our family members that were going to be coming for Christmas dinner and we decided to power our way through the candy in our Christmas stockings and we forgot Sham was in the house.

My brother went to the kitchen to get some cookies and he came running back into my bedroom.

His face was white and I thought he was going to faint.

He couldn’t speak, he just grabbed me by my hair and pulled me down the hall to the kitchen.

All my brother could do was point

Sham was standing at the counter and he had this huge turkey in his jaws.

I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

My sister was right behind us and we piled on Sham and held him still while I pried his jaws open.

He dropped the turkey on the floor, I grabbed the cooling platter from the counter and dropped the turkey on it.

The  platter was made of wood had little spikes on it to hold the turkey in place. I pushed the turkey back on the spikes and burned my hand shoving the stuffing back in because some of it had popped out and oozed on the counter.

Me and my brother lifted the platter and put it back up on the counter.

” What are you kids doing?” my Mom called ” You’re to quiet!”

” We’re playing with Sham.” my sister answered.

I looked down at her in horror. ” Shut up!” I hissed.

I stuffed turkey bits in the little holes from Sham’s fangs and we ran back down the hall and into my bedroom.

” Hide him!” my brother said.

I threw a blanket over Sham and he layed down and we could hear him licking his chops under the blanket.

He fell asleep and the three of us sat there on my bed waiting to die.

The doorbell rang and the rest of our family started to show up for Christmas Dinner.

Then my Dad went into the kitchen to carve the turkey.


Dinner went off without a hitch.

Dad carved the turkey, there were a million side dishes and everyone said it tasted great as usual.

I wouldn’t know- me and my siblings didn’t eat turkey that Christmas.

Come on. It was in our dog’s mouth. It was on the kitchen floor at one point. We wouldn’t have eaten it for more Christmas presents or money.

Besides, every time we lifted a slice to our lips the other one would bark or pant and we’d start laughing so hard we’d start choking.

I don’t know if this was the funniest Christmas memory I have- but it is one of the best.

Now it’s tradition:

I give my dogs their own slices of turkey freshly carved and still a little warm

And I tell them it’s from Sham



Sham during the Year of The Turkey Incident

Sham during the Year of The Turkey Incident

Once Upon A Time…


Did I believe in Santa as a kid?


My family wasn’t big on Santa- and it might not be for the reasons you think.


My Dad’s family and my Mom’s family had one thing in common- they were great storytellers. They’d tell stories about ghosts and people being buried alive at Baby Showers, Birthdays and Thanksgiving.

Christmas and New Years? Even better- there were stories galore about devils, demons and weird things that they found in attics, graveyards and basements.

When it came to Santa they drew a big fat goose egg.

I never heard stories about Santa and the North Pole. As far as I knew he was someone you took your picture with at Christmas ,you could tell him what you wanted for Christmas and then  he gave you a candy cane.

I had heard if you were extra good, he’d bring you the present you asked for.

I asked for a dog.

A real dog- with wings.

I was just testing.

I figure if I got the dog with wings Santa was real.

If not, the entire thing was baloney.

Turned out to be baloney.


Personally I think Santa wasn’t the most interesting story to tell- so my family really didn’t go into that part of the Christmas experience.

On the other hand, none of us went out of our way to wreck anyone else’s Christmas fun. Like I said they loved to tell stories and if the story you loved was one about Santa, that was ok. We could go along with that. Christmas fun is Christmas fun.

My Christmas fun involved a story Ghost Train that went up and down the streets on Christmas Eve- the Ghost Train and The Ghost People on board would take you away if they caught you outside alone.


So it was best to stay inside with your family on Christmas Eve.

The terrible part was year after year  your family would leave a stocking for you by the fireplace and some presents- all of which would be gone on Christmas morning.

In its place?

A single bone.

Eventually they’d have enough bones to put together a skeleton and one day you’d get a grave.

But at least your bones would be on that Ghost Train anymore.


That’s the kind of Christmas story I heard.

Poor old Santa.

He was a good story, but had he been riding on a ghost train full of human bones in search of a grave?

He would have been a great story,



There Can Be Only Three!

Press It

Give some love to three blog posts you’ve read and loved in the past week, and tell us why they’re worth reading.


Maybe I’ve read six posts that I really loved and want to share.

Maybe there was only one.

And maybe, just maybe there were nine.

Do you know how I found them?

I read a lot.


I think it’s a curse on us all- nobody wants to read anymore- they want to point and click and move on.

I could give up the links, or you could decide today that instead of reading what I tell you to read,  you could decide to read about… hmmm….


Sure why not. You want to read about Arsenic.

Do you know what could happen if you read and did a lot of research on arsenic?

No. NOT that.

You might  just happen to run across a post about Christmas Trees that look like Daleks.


Before you know it,

the tree you and your family put up could be out on the curb and you could have a Dalek Tree in its place.

When your family see’s what you’ve done they could all go a little mad


and you could have them all locked up and keep their presents and treats for yourself!



I’ve just done you a ginormous favor.

You’re welcome.


Do Not Open Till…Never Would Be Good


Write the annual holiday card/brag letter for your family.


Hi All!

Here we are at the end of the year

and boy do I have a lot to share!


With much effort and tons of frequent flyer miles ( that the airline finally coughed up ) my shrunken head collection is now complete- whoops- did I say that in my out loud voice?

They’re fake


( cough cough )


Just in case you’re wondering I finally learned to barbecue.


Let’s give that one a pass.


Over the summer I visited a theme park in Russia.

Some of the rides were out of order.

Plus side, I’ve got extra fingers on my left hand now.


I had a house warming party.

Meet My New Neighbors.



That’s an overview of  my year.

And if you don’t want me to tell you about the rest of it or go into great detail about what I’ve mentioned here, I’d like a new pair of Hello Kitty Boot Slippers, Gummy Candies  shaped like killer Jellyfish and a lifetime supply of  Absinthe and some pretty little glasses to drink it from.



Merry Christmas!