Comedy of Errors, Thanksgiving Style


Turkey (Photo credit: wattpublishing)

Ah, the day before Thanksgiving.   A happy, happy day.  Nerd Child came home for Thanksgiving break, he’s been making us laugh for the past four days.  Man Child and his girlfriend Miss Music got home last night, long after I fell asleep–how beautiful to wake up to all my chickadees at home.

A day for finishing prep work for cooking and debating whether or not it will be worth going to see the balloons being blown up tonight.  I’m quite behind on the cooking this year, left too much for today.  The only things ready are my cranberry sauce and stuffing.  After taking Flower Child to school, I went straight to the store to pick up a pork roast.  That’s right I said pork, I’m not making a turkey this year.  Came home from the store, began mincing garlic and toasting fennel seeds.

I needed the salt.  From the top shelf.  Too lazy to take out the stool, I stretched.  I don’t think of myself as petite.  In my mind, I’m a glorious six feet tall.  Except not in reality.  So trying to reach the container of sea salt, I knocked against the glass bottle of vanilla.  I don’t know about you, but I’m not into serving bourbon vanilla glass shard infused pork.  I didn’t even think, my left hand shot up to catch the bottle before it could hit the counter and smash all over the spices and garlic.  My kitchen is teeny.  This type of incident is more than a nuisance when the space is so tight.  It can take out an entire meal.  SCORE!  I did it, caught it in mid air with my non dominant hand.  This is the part where you say, “Gee, that Mrs Fringe is swell and multi talented.”

Did I mention the crack?  Yes, that was the sound of my hand when it hit the bottom edge of the cabinet door before catching the vanilla.  Right between the two knuckles of my pinkie and ring finger.

Then Man Child and Miss Music came back.  They had gone to move her car.  Those friendly folks from the impound already moved it for her.  It was late, it was raining, they didn’t see the full sign.

No parking: We kind of really mean it

No parking: We kind of really mean it (Photo credit: caruba)

Husband went with Man Child and Miss Music to the impound.  Nerd Child went with me to the urgent care center.  I think dinner may be a little late tomorrow.

They wouldn't give me a hook.

They wouldn’t give me a hook.

Happy Thanksgiving, Fringelings!


  1. Oh, man. That stinks!! And I’m sorry they didn’t give you a hook. Then you’d be swell, multi-talented, and piratey.

    Pizza is always a Thanksgiving favorite…


  2. Oh no.

    My sweet baboo, I am sorry to hear that. You are right, now I understand. 😦

    Are bones broken?? Yikes. Comedy of errors. Or, maybe that’s not the right term. Comedy/Tragedy? Not really a tragedy though, right? You are still typing. One hand now? Doing the one-finger thingie?

    mrs fringe, I hope you are able to rest, remember not everything needs doing, shit happens, folks deal. I hope that whatever your Thanksgiving looks like tomorrow, you and yours enjoy. And know that I shall drinking my joe in the wee hours, looking East, thinking of you..

    Thankful that I know you, mrs fringe. Wishing you every good thing.

    xo kk


    1. Thanks kk ❤ Yup, typing one handed. Definitely puts a crimp in my writing plans for the weekend.

      The good part is that both boys are here and will help with the cooking, prep, and dogs.

      You know I feel the same about you, wishing you and yours all the best for Thanksgiving.



  3. Woo sorry to hear you have been in the wars, hope the hand isn’t bothering you too much but have to say reading about it did make my giggle…………… something good came out of your mishap……lol


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