I remember the year my mother boiled the turkey because she and dad retired and she swore she would never cook again. They built a new house and she didn't put an oven in the kitchen--thus the boiled turkey. My brothers and I went out to the only store open in their little town--a convenience store--and bought hot dogs. We brought them back to their house and boiled hot dogs for 15-20 people. It was much better than the pale-looking, and bland, turkey. We remember that Thanksgiving fondly. My mother is still alive at 94 and still hates to cook.
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"What goes on four feet in the morning, two feet at noon, and three feet in the evening?"
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