Thankful for Learning

When I got married, I wanted to be happy. Wanted my wife to be happy. Wanted happy kids. Over the ensuing decades (!) I've learned a few things about what works and what doesn't in pursuit of that happy state. Some things have been easier to remember and incorporate.

One was very clearly exercised this morning as we began the Thanksgiving cooking. One thing I have learned over the years is that I have gift for logistics. I can think about a planned activity on Thursday and know what things need to be done in the days, even the months, beforehand to ensure it comes about. I bought 3 dozen eggs 7 weeks ago so I would be able to boil them (the older an egg is, the more likely it is to peel cleanly-seriously, go look it up) yesterday in order to devil them today.

Anyway, we brine our turkey, and then give it a buttermilk rinse. It involves thawing the turkey for a week, then putting it in a huge pot with some salt and water Tuesday night, then emptying out the water and covering it with buttermilk. This morning, it was time to start cooking.

I emptied out the buttermilk, and could tell this turkey was going to be too big for the pan Jenni had asked me to use. We have a ridiculously small wall oven (I guess back in the 60s, no one cooked big things!? Someday, we will have the awesome huge oven that our hearts yearn for...), so she was worried that our larger baking dish wouldn't fit in the oven with the door closed. I tested the door, put the large dish in to make sure it would still close. It did.

I put the turkey in the baking dish and waited for Jenni to come in and review. She's better with the foil. When she saw how the turkey was sticking slightly over the edges of the pan, she wondered if the other pan (the one she had asked for, it was slightly oval) would be wide enough to avoid the overhanging meat (which of course raised the risk of dripping). I assured her it was not any wider.

I saw, with a clear, brilliant, precient surety, the look that crossed her face. She wanted to *see* that it wouldn't fit.

We've had that talk before, mostly with furniture. Sometimes, it's just easier to look at something in place, and then be certain that it wasn't going to really work there.

So I nodded, and said, "I don't mind washing a second dish," and moved the turkey into the oval pan. It hung out even more, and we agreed to move it back.

Sometimes, when you know you are right, you are certain of your correctness, it can be very hard to indulge the uncertainty of others. There is a reason that indignation is usually paired with the word "righteous".

But I have learned that there is rarely (if ever) any good that comes from insisting to loved ones. And I have learned over the years that I treasure peace and happiness far more than the conservation of effort (that comes from bullying loved ones into doing it my way so I don't have to wash another dish).

I am grateful for efficiency. But I am more grateful that I have learned how to be happy with loved ones.