Baptism By Fire

That is exactly how my Mom's new stove made its debut on Thanksgiving Day!! First, a little background information; my Parents remodeled their kitchen in 1987, right around the time my Mom went back to work full-time and gave up cooking. She pretty much only cooks for Holiday dinners like Thanksgiving and Christmas. The last 2 Thanksgivings, one burner of the gas stove has stubbornly refused to turn, let alone light. This last burner is only turned on at the critical gravy-making moment because the gravy pan covers 2 burners, and by this stage of the game my Mom is usually having a Hot Flash and throwing all the windows open while my Brother and I are freezing and taking turns trying to fix the stove while the other one drinks beer to help us cope with the situation. Both years my techno-savvy Husband has saved the day with the needle-nose pliers he keeps handy for such occasions, uttering something like "This d*mn stove must be made by Microsoft..."
So this year well in advance of the day we mandated that my Mom get a new stove prior to Thanksgiving or we would be boycotting the event. At first we were met with some resistance; "That stove is BRAND NEW!" Ummm... just because you have only used it 40 times does not mean it is BRAND NEW!! That stove is old enough to legally drink!!
Long story longer, my Mom obliged and had this fabulous stainless steel G.E. Profile range installed the week before Thanksgiving. She even heeded our advice to test-drive it a few times before the Main Event. So we figured, what could go wrong?
Fast-forward to Thanksgiving Day and I hear my Brother call to our Dad, "Harry, we need you to come take the Turkey out." The thought did briefly cross my mind to wonder why a 6-foot-4 39 year old cannot take the Turkey out himself but I figured he just did not want to upset tradition, plus I was busy whooping my niece's butt at Go Fish so I remained quiet. My Dad sauntered by to go get the Turkey and then seconds later I hear this "WHOOOOOOOOOSH" and my Brother is screaming "HARRY! HARRY! GET OUT OF THE WAY." Turns out my Dad was taking the Bird out of the oven in its flimsy tin foil roasting pan and the pan bent, spilling the juices into the oven, where direct contact with the heating elements caused a fireball to shoot out directly at his head. Luckily he ducked and managed to hold onto the turkey, and the few hairs left on his head were unharmed, as was remarkably the ceiling. Guess who Santa will be bringing a REAL Roasting Pan to this year??
Thankfully no one was hurt and there was actually enough juice left to make the gravy, although my Mom was worried there wouldn't be and walked around muttering "Freaking Harry." And for those of you who are wondering "You call your Dad by his first name?" the answer is... not exactly. A good friend of mine once asked why my brother's name is Mike and not Harry Jr. The answer? "UMMM... because Harry's name is really Mike." But that's a story for another Blog. Happy Belated Thanksgiving!!