My mom-in-law phoned yesterday, breathless with excitement. Her call contained good news and it contained bad news.

First, the good news. Our neighbour's son, who considers her his surrogate grandmother, won a 25 pound turkey during his army marksman competition and he is giving her the behemoth!

For my mom-in-law, a woman who believes that if you don't have enough food in your house to withstand a nuclear winter Then Something Is Deeply Deeply Wrong With You, scoring this free Turkeyzilla is one of those life altering moments.

I think that if she could figure out a way to both bronze it and feed us with it, our family would be admiring a heavy metal version of Turkeyzilla for years to come. I believe I speak for us all when I express gratitude over the fact that turkey bronzing has never really enjoyed the sort of vogue that baby shoe bronzing once enjoyed.

Maybe this shows an astounding lack of imagination on my part, but it seems to me that a bronzed carcass of a frighteningly large dead bird would be somewhat hard to integrate into most decorating schemes.

Now that we're all basking in the giddiness that the thought of a free, frighteningly large dead bird engenders, I guess it's time to drop the bad news bomb.

I have been the victim of plotting and scheming. Even worse, I have learned that the perpetrator of said plotting and scheming IS MY OWN SPOUSAL UNIT!

I know. I'm reeling, too.

The perfidy swirls around Christmas dinner.

While Christmas dinner is always delicious, let's face it, it's the desserts that we all live for. The meal itself is just a bridge between opening presents and passing out from the dessert-induced sugar coma. Most Christmas food is yummy but not terrifically spicy, so I like to make my spicy re-baked potatoes to liven things up.

Well, this year the spousal unit whined to his mother that he misses plain old mashed potatoes and gravy. I have been informed by my mom-in-law that this year my re-baked potatoes are off the menu and will be replaced by mashed potatoes.

This sort of betrayal hasn't been seen since the Ides of March.

It gets worse. I am now required to make simple vegetable dishes, one of them involving turnip.

Let's be honest here. There are three people on the planet who actually like turnip. I am one of them, fortunately, but sadly the other two turnip fans are not family members. This means that whatever I prepare will be eaten by me � and � well, me. Other people's contributions to the meal will be fulsomely praised, but eyes will be averted when it comes to my turnip offering.

Yep, if Christmas dinner was a baseball game, I am now officially the player required to make the sacrifice bunt.

Oh, I could let this make me a sad, bitter woman, but even you know what? I am a bigger person than that. Yes, I have decided to forgive and forget.

Sort of.

Because, see, when it comes time to serve the food, I'm going to make sure the spousal unit, who is no fan of the turnip, gets a generous helping of my turnip offering.

Whoever said revenge is a dish better served cold just didn't see all the possibilities in turnip, eh.

--Marn

P.S.--If you're doing any of your Christmas shopping at Amazon this year, why not do it through Blue Sphere? Five per cent of what you spend will be donated by Amazon to Blue Sphere, and will be given to the Foster Parents Plan of Canada.

Yep, you get to make a large corporation cough up five per cent of its profits AND at no cost to yourself you get to help some poor kids out. What's not to love about that, eh?