Love | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Love | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jean C Prentice
10/20/08
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The Christmas Holidays were coming up fast and the question arose as to who is cooking the dinner? I had been married for three years, and coming from a rather poor family I had a repertoire of being able to boil wieners, make spaghetti, and boil chickens. The latter coming from the neighbor’s hen house late at night carted home by my Uncle.

My husbands Mother did not think I was quite the girl that she had in mind for her wonderful son and tried to persuade him to look around more. Now don’t get me wrong, her son is wonderful, and she had a right to be very selective in her choice. My husband had a different idea and within six months of dating, we became man and wife.

The only problem that my wonderful husband had was my feeble attempt to cook a decent meal. One of his favorite comments was “Why don’t you call my Mom for cooking instruction?” This did cause a little deep fellowship in our marriage, or for those of you who may not understand, I got mad. At one time I called my Mother long distance to ask how to make Jell-O. But, in time and with the help of very good friends, I began to cook a little better.

This one Christmas I wanted to show my Mother in-law that I was worthy of her son, so asked my Mother and Father, and my husbands Mother and Father to come to our house for Christmas dinner. My Mother in-law said she would buy two Turkeys to make sure that we had the perfect bird... The decision was that I would cook one, and she would cook the other. After an explanation on how to cook turkey, she left with a smile and a nod.

The day dawned bright and crisp with just a touch of snow covering the ground, and the Christmas cooking began with a bit of help from my husband stuffing the turkey. After basting that 12lb bird for 4 hours, mashing potatoes, fixing a relish tray, and making sure the table was set everyone arrived. We decided to carve the turkey I had cooked first, and my Mother in-laws later. Everyone sat down and commented on how wonderful everything looked. My husband proudly began to carve the turkey, and as he cut deeper into the bird we saw red at the bone. He turned to me and said "let's carve Mothers and cook ours longer?”

My eyes began to tear up; I had wanted so badly to prove that I was going to be a good wife. Everyone helped to gather up my turkey to cook it more, and made room on the table for my Mother in-laws. As my husband began to carve, he turned to me and said “something is wrong, there is red at the bone on this one.”
We later found out that they had injected red dye in the turkeys that year.
She is gone now to be with the Lord, but for many years she and I have laughed over this.

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