Meet my friend the turkey. You can call him Mr. Stuffing for short. Handsome, regal, he instills fear and respect in all he meets. Right?
I have to admit, he's not really the picture of confidence. Or majestic grace. And there's no denying he's quite goofy looking. What was Benjamin Franklin thinking when he nominated this creature for the national bird?
But to tell you the truth, I think he's gotten a bum rap.
I know, I know. It's just way too easy to poke fun at him. After all, he's not known for his smarts. He certainly doesn't have the looks of his kin the eagle or hawk. But when you think of it, where would we be without our lowly friend -- the one who supplies the centerpiece at so many of our holidays?
Why our tables would be barren, the stuffing and yams looking lost all by themselves. And those cute little Thanksgiving crafts the kids bring home. I'm sorry to say, they just wouldn't be as sweet with a pig or a cow. Why he's the workhorse of the American feast.
And in a sick, weird way I kind of relate to this fellow.
I've never been what one would call pretty. My style these days could be best described as Modern Frump, given my affinity for comfort over style, sweats and elastic waistbands. Even my body showing signs of resemblance with the constant growth of my midsection and the unstoppable southward shift of everything else.
But mostly because I feel like he's a kindred spirit. Like him, I'm overworked, certainly underpaid and definitely unappreciated. And when it comes down to it, my house would not be a pretty place without me.
So today, I would like to dedicate this post to all the workhorses out there. The turkeys. The moms. The dads. And everyone else that makes this wonderful day possible. For all of you I give thanks.
Happy Thanksgiving to all and to all a good night.
And next time you see my friend Mr. Stuffing, give him a little respect, will you?