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screw you, Meijer


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So last week the stars of work travel aligned, and it turned out I would be able to spend Thanksgiving in Chicago with my dad and various assorted inlaws.  I was/am definitely excited!


I get in last night, and as we're visiting, "how I'm eating" comes up in the conversation, since I'd mentioned it a few days ago when they asked if I wanted anything specific on the big day. I give 'em the highlight reel of what a Whole30 entails, and they kinda-sorta are following along, because I have been eating "weird" for a while now.


Of course the "well, what CAN you eat" question arises (sheesh people, really?!? ;)) ... I was like well, maybe the turkey, and my step mom says "MAYBE?"

I reply, well, you know, it depends on what it's marinated in, what it's basted with, etc.


My dad's a super picky eater, and chimes in with "Well, if *I'm* going to eat it, you can be sure it'll be totally plain!"


And my stepmom says, "Oh no, ya, it's fine: I'm going to put a little salt and pepper on it, wrap it, roast it, done."


I say, cool, great, excellent. **change topic** ;)



Soooooooo, I'm up first this morning, and I start poking around in the fridge.  I spy the turkey on the bottom shelf, thawed out and ready for it's big showing later today.


And what do I find?!?!?!?!?








(Meijer is a chain store, a large grocery/department store place)

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  • 1 month later...

Yep. The old sugar in the Turkey trick. I'll share my different but equally dissapoiting story with you. The other day I had two BEAUTIFUL grass fed, free-range and locally sourced steaks. Thick and gorgeous. Rubbed with spice, and ready for the grill. My husband set them in the grill, set a timer and ran back into the house to do....? Well, I'm not really sure. Anyway, I am at the sink and what do I see? Three foot flames shooting out of the back of the grill. I ran outside, flipped up the lid and there they were... Two completely charred hockey pucks. Like coal brickettes.

I wanted to cry.

I feel your pain, my friend.

No turkey for you. No steak for me. Boo.

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