This is one of my favorite Thanksgiving posts--from 2011. So I decided to repost it this weekend.
Do you remember Miss Priss?
One of my FAVORITE posts ever is this one:
Then the madness continued with:
Her nickname says it all. I swear, I run into this woman whenever I look like crap--too bad I see her almost EVERY DAY.
Yesterday, I should have thrown some makeup on, but no, I decided to put on my glasses and go all natural. That practically summoned Miss Priss because when I stepped into the post office, there she stood, mailing packages that smelled like perfume.
"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw me. "How . . . lovely to see you."
Wasn't it though, just delightful!
I wanted to scream, tell her I don't ALWAYS look like crap, it's just when I see her. There was no time for facts though, she wanted to tell the employees about how amazing she is and how she's researched new ways to help her baby be smarter.
The other P. O. employee said he could help me. "How was your Thanksgiving?" he asked, and Miss Priss hushed, completely honing in on our conversation.
Sure I could have played her game, acted like everything was better than sin, but I'm not like that, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "It was awesome. The food turned out great. The turkey was moist even if I did leave the bag in it."
The employees started laughing. "You did what?"
"I left the bag in, and can you believe it didn't even taste like plastic?! I almost died when my husband carved the turkey. He held up the bag and said, 'Hon, what is this?' It was like he'd found the toy in the Cracker Jack package--seriously. But, anyway, if our turkey sucks next year, I'll know it's because the bag needs to stay in. It adds a . . . smoky taste you just can't buy."
Well, wasn't she a gem--God's gift and everything.
"You know," she continued, "you should google things first."
"Sometimes it's nice to live life on the edge."
"And leaving a bag in a turkey, is living life on the edge?"
"Absolutely! I felt all sorts of adventurous on Thanksgiving. I ate something that had baked with plastic, and I bet it's happened to loads of people."
"Well, not to me." She put her nose up so high in the air, it reminded me of how she'd reacted when I drank coffee. She's very religious LDS, and as such, disproves of coffee.
I don't know why, but I couldn't take her attitude anymore. I shouldn't have done it, but I did.
"You know what, I did manage to get the neck and the ball sack out before I cooked everything up. I boiled the other stuff to make gravy."
"How crude." She turned white.
"Yeah, we used to eat the turkey nuts growing up. They do have a strange texture, but once you get over that, they're pretty tasty. Nuts would be your favorite meal, if you tried 'em." I turned to Miss Priss and then back to the P. O. employees. I thought the man helping me might explode with laughter.
Miss Priss went to leave after that. I almost invited her to one of my family's nut fries, but then I thought I'd done enough.
For more information about the nut fry, please go here:
"You know what?" one employee said. "I didn't know you had it in you, but I'm proud of you. That woman needs some reality. It's nice to see someone talk straight to her."
The other employee blurted out, "I bet she's left the bag in the turkey too. My wife has." He paused and then spoke really fast again. "I-know-I-have."
I paid for my stuff and smiled wide. "You left the bag in too? Seriously?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "except it was a long time ago and the thing started on fire."
"Oh, my gosh! That makes everything better. I felt like such an idiot."
"Don't," he said. "We're all human and we all make mistakes."
"Thanks," I said. And for some reason as I left, I felt great about leaving that bag in the turkey. I didn't feel stupid or silly because I knew I'd made a memory. I also felt bad for Miss Priss. Sometimes when people try so hard to be perfect, they lose sight of just having fun.
So to Miss Priss,
Unclench those butt cheeks. Life's about living. That's great if you want to google everything, but just once, try living in the moment where things aren't secure and they're a bit uncertain.