than playing with a cardboard box?

Not according to Troy.

Since my husband broke the stoneware that goes to my Crock-Pot, I have had a major case of the sads. I have had to come up with alternative ways to make dinner, so I have become fast friends with the electric meat smoker Jeff gave me for Christmas. It’s pretty and shiny. And red.

However, I asked for a new lens for my camera and I was going to take the smoker back. Then I washed the receipt in Jeff’s jeans, so that put the smack down on that business.

So let’s smoke a turkey.

Step 1. Wake up at 8 a.m. This process takes at least eight hours. Cuss a bit in your head because your Crock-Pot could have dinner ready in 5 hours. Make your husband do everything regarding touching the raw, thawed ten pound bird so you can take pictures.

Step 2. Inform your husband that he has to take out the neck and the bag of gut stuff from inside the bird. He thinks you are joking. Dig out turkey wrapper from trash and show him what it says. Take photograph of your husband looking inside a turkey’s butt.

Step 3. Tell husband you probably won’t use these photographs anyway because who cares about smoking a turkey.

Step 4. Throw up in your mouth when you see the neck come out, so you decide to chop up the celery and onions.

Step 5. Make “rub” for turkey with some ingredients consisting mostly use red wine. Debate on whether or not to have a glass. Refrain because it’s 8 a.m. and we are serious turkey smokers. Also soak hickory wood chips in a bowl of water for at least thirty minutes. We soaked ours overnight.

Step 6. Make husband shove celery and onions into turkey. Gag.

Step 7. Pour wine magic juice over bird.

Step 8. Divide soaked wood chips into little piles and place onto foil.

Step 9. Place wood packets onto lava rocks in the bottom of the smoker. Do not place directly onto the heating elements. Trust me. That ends badly.

Step 10. Place water pan over heating unit and fill with water and wine. Don’t forget the wine. Wine makes everything taste of rainbows.

Step 11. Yell at your husband until he comes outside and ask him to place the turkey into smoker.

Step 12. Mention to your husband that he shouldn’t wear his socks outside because they will wear out quickly. Wonder why he shakes his head and ignores you.

Step 13. Pour the remaining rub over turkey.

Step 14. Plug in smoker and say a little prayer of deliciousness for the bird.

Step 15. Get ready and leave for work why the smoker is smoking its guts out in front of your house. Instruct your husband to take pictures of the turkey when it is finished because you will not be home. Remind him not to punch any buttons or turn any dials on the camera because the pictures will probably not come out. Call home ten hours later and husband will tell you he took several pictures and he thinks turning the dials “helped”. Obviously.

In conclusion, using a smoker is pretty much just like using a Crock-Pot but with more wine and Jeff is not allowed to use the camera. I also accused him of not caring about this blog because he wrecked the end of this post by sabotaging the delicious turkey shot and he just stared at me, like when I informed him about wearing his socks outside.

ZDub’s Magic Turkey Rub
-1/4 cup of vegetable oil
-Half a bottle of wine (red or white)
-1/3 cup of lemon juice
-Half a stick of melted butter
-1 tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce
-1 tsp each of salt and sage and marjoram and pepper

Smoke the turkey at least eight hours until the temperature reaches 180 degrees and the turkey leg moves easily in joint.

Zoe is a straight up collector. I don’t want to call her a ‘pack rat’ because I’m not into labels. Open any drawer in her room and you will see various scraps of paper, broken toys, junk mail, pen lids, shoelaces, my old make-up, diaper pins, broken crayons to back up my claim. You might be thinking, “Well ZDub, maybe you should clean house more often” and I’m here to tell, you I TRY. I really do. If I attempt to empty that crap out, Zoe is on the scene arguing her case about each item like a defense lawyer. I feel she comes by her collection tendencies naturally and when I say naturally, I mean from my mother. My mother is also a collector. Come over and take a look at my garage, the downstairs where my mother lives and also the basement of the house she still owns. That woman loves stuff. If you are coming over, bring something strong for us to drink because looking at that mess gives me anxiety and you will probably be here for awhile.

This morning I packed Zoe’s lunch and went to toss it into her back pack. I picked up her back pack and realized it weighed a ton. And was rattling.

I emptied it out and let’s review. Zoe’s notes regarding each item are in purple.

• Jeff’s UPS beanie-In case there’s a blizzard
  
• my scarf I thought I lost-In case my neck gets cold in class
• jar of lip gloss-You always need stuff on your lips in Colorado (she’s right)
  
• golf ball-I found it front of the school and thought Brother would like it (aww)
• eight pencils and a Sharpie-You never know when you might need extras
• a bag of fudge from December-It was kinda gross
• tube of Carmex-I FOUND IT (she didn’t use it)
• tickets-I got them for being nice in class and was supposed to turn them in
• ball of foil-I found it in the hallway
• small hundred dollar bill magnet-Kayla gave it to me for an eraser
  
• bracelet-My friend made it for me and I like to wear it sometimes
• heart barrette-I found it in P.E. (I’m noticing a trend)
  
• library good citizen award from August-Because I always put my books back and don’t yell and run around and stuff
  
• comb-It’s from picture day, but I lost mine and Trevor gave me his (?!)
• purple sticker-We used them in art and I didn’t want to throw mine away
  
• black button-It fell off my coat and I forgot to tell you about it because you can’t sew (rude)
• broken candy cane-In case I get hungry after school
• a plastic spoon-I used it to eat pudding at lunch and thought I could recycle it
  
• a LIGHTER-I found it in the gym (it totally works, oy)
• a business card from a DRIVING SCHOOL (wait for it)-You never know

Let me just point out that if I get pulled over with a spoon, a ball of foil and a lighter in my purse, it is safe to say I would probably go to j-a-i-l or at least get my car searched. I told her if she did go to driving school and learned to drive she needed to get a job. I saw her eyes light up and I know she was thinking of all the crap she could buy. Or at least the amazing stuff she could find on the floor of her work.

We were both 19 the first time we met. We lived at the same dorm seven floors up at the same university. I remember you knocking on our door one afternoon to serenade my sister with an original song, “My Butt“, and a guitar. While I stood in the background watching you sing your guts out and my sister turn 465 shades of red, I was a bit jealous of her. She didn’t appreciate your ballsy display of admiration, deep down I knew you were just the right level of sarcasm that I needed in my life and introduced myself. We somehow ended up hanging out in the stairwell on the 7th floor and proceeded to take turns throwing raisins over the railing. We would congratulate one another when they would reach all the way to the bottom floor, which was the laundry area.

Zoe loves to hear this story, laughing when I say I first met Uncle Steve while he was singing a song about his backside to her aunt. She will say “Uncle Steve though Aunt Z.aine was the prettiest and liked her better than you!” and I die a little inside because as you know, we have been having this exact same discussion for YEARS.

It hasn’t always been Care Bears and snow cones. We have gone through times when we didn’t like each other very much, both of us needing to figure out our own stuff. I came to the conclusion that I really shouldn’t be such a flake and probably get my act together and I am not going to speculate on what you figured out, but I am pretty sure you came to the conclusion that I am amazing and have great hair and you were wrong to sing that song about your butt to my sister first, even if she does have a “much better rack” (your words). We might have fought and fought our guts out, but I still think of those times as pretty rad because I learned something. And hopefully that something was how to be a better friend.

So here we sit 14 years later. I think of how we both have a deep seated love for air hockey. Or that time we went to Branson! Missouri! to see Wayne Newton. And when you came to California to see me and you lost your shoes. I’m not even sure if I can adequately put into words the logistics of our friendship. It’s like trying to explain the Spice Girls to my oldest child who was born in 2001 and is all “What’s Zig-a-zig-ah?” and you really don’t know what to say. That’s right; our friendship is adult and complicated, just like the Spice Girls.

But mostly our friendship is full of awesome.

Steve=Decisively dashing Me=Amused asshole

Happy Birthday, Steve. Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories. Or raisins.

Love,
Zak

We celebrated Zoe’s birthday last weekend with a small party (just family) and her favorite friend. You know, the friend that broke her tooth off the last time she spent the night with us. They wanted to have a pinata and I agreed. I agreed but refused to let them use a blindfold and the whole “spin me around until I am really dizzy and hand me a bat!” because I’m pretty sure the my-kid-hit-your-kid-in-the-face-with-a-bat phone call is a lot more awkward than the your-kid-fell-on-my-coffee-table-and-broke-her-tooth-omg-it-was-an-accident phone call and I really don’t want to find out.

Jeff rigged the pinata up in the backyard and the girls ran in to tell me it was go time. I told them I had to grab my camera and I would be right there.

I walk outside to this and scream “DO NOT SWING THAT BAT! HER FACE!”

Zoe ensured me she was just “checking” to see if she was close enough and she wasn’t really going to swing. Jeff was explaining the rules to them, i.e. take turns and please don’t swing when anyone is around you.

I think my warning is much more clear.

Troy decided to get in on the action.

Much to the children’s delight, his guts were starting to spill out.

And then Zoe stepped up for the win.

No children or their teeth were harmed in making of this blog post.

Condolences to the pinata.