Reality Bites

For the past several days I've been feeling like someone must be secretly videotaping my life for some whacked out reality show. How else could I possibly explain the weird convergence of events that have been my life?

It started early Sunday morning as I woke up about 6 a.m. in a complete panic about baking a 21-pound turkey. Now I wasn't crazy enough to get out of bed at that hour, so I laid there fitfully trying to soak up a couple more hours of sleep. By 8 a.m., I'd given up. I got up and made my way into the kitchen to have a stare down with Bob, the turkey. (It may seem sick to name the thing you are going to cook, but I thought it would be cathartic.)

At some point in the preparation, which involved stuffing the thing with onions, apples and garlic and then slathering it with butter, I decided I could be more productive if I began speaking like Julia Child. These are moments when it's a good thing you live alone or that might be used against me if I'm ever taken to a commitment hearing in court.

I get the bird in the oven and settle in for the next five hours of baking it. Things seem to go well, the thermometer goes off at the appropriate time and indicates that Bob has reached the perfect 180 degree temp. But when I make a small cut on one side, things don't look quite right. A bit too pink. So, I heave the thing back in the oven for about another hour.

He comes out and my friend Kerri, who is among the early guests to arrive, assures me that Bob will be delish and safe to eat. Except when we've carved up the deliciousness of his one side and start on the other, it's clear that one side did not complete the cooking process.

I will spare you the description of my panic and anxiety over my lack of domestic ability that was seeping into my being at that moment. Bob goes back in the oven and we feast one one side of him. It was actually a pretty divine meal supplemented by the many wonderful things brought by my friends. Thank God for friends.

All in all it was a good night and eventually the entire turkey got cooked.

After washing a ridiculous amount of serving and cooking dishes, I crawled into bed happy with food and wine.

1 a.m. -- into the deepest part of my sleep. A shrill, shrieking can be heard in the distance.

"What's that?" my subconscious asks.
"Crap, it's the work phone. Shit," she answers.
I stumble through the hallway and dial back the dreaded work number.
"Jessie, do you think you could go to the scene of a police-involved shooting?"

It was the coldest night of the year. Along the Ohio River. With a windchill well below zero.

Not a good start to the Christmas week.