The turkey should've totally been the national bird anyway

The husband is on thin ice, people. I always knew he was never fond of turkey (if that's even POSSIBLE), but to have him declare it publicly like that...woo. I don't even know, man.

I adore turkey the whole year, but Thanksgiving is like, the pinnacle of turkeydom. Yes, there were those few years of the pale, anemic, dry turkeys, but I've encouraged my mom change her roasting ways. Now our turkeys are toasty brown, crispy skinned, and oh so juicy. Meat falls off the bone and is perfectly seasoned. Not bland and boring as the husband insists.

I'm not even sure I can be with a man who thinks otherwise.

Besides, let's talk about mashed potatoes. When I merely suggested this year that we make another kind of potato dish rather than mashed, my family, including the husband, nearly rioted. I calmly offered up several other options...scalloped, roasted, casseroled...and was met with angry stares and the threat of looting. COME ON. We eat mashed fucking potatoes all. the. time. They're not even that tasty! They're simply a starchy vessel on which to eat cream and butter. We can actually eat cream and butter in better forms!

But whatever. All I know is that I will be bringing two homemade maple pecan tarts to my mother's for Thanksgiving. And I'm thinking that slices of tart will only be handed out to card-carrying turkey lovers who can convince me of their utter adoration of the bird.

Selfish? Weird? Obsessive? Maybe. But a marriage is at stake here.