On a Wishbone...

I baked a turkey today.

Me, the girl who has a ridiculously irrational fear of raw poultry. Make that raw meat of any kind. Heck, I'd become a vegetarian if I wasn't anemic.

For those of you who have baked a turkey before, you understand what I mean when I say it's a smelly, sticky and overall gag-inducing process. Not the baking part, but the cleaning part.

Even the directions are offensive. You want me to stick my hand where??? And pull out what???

At least my Target turkey included a nice reminder to thoroughly wash my hands after handling the bird. Thanks. Because I really enjoy the feeling of fat and blood on my hands -- so much in fact that I would have avoided the soap for a few days if there wasn't a risk of salmonella.

I cooked my first turkey last year, and vowed I would never do it again. Unfortunately I was wrong. But this time I mean it. The Ivins will eat tofurkey on Thanksgiving from now on, no matter how disgusting it tastes.

Now that I've sufficiently purged myself of the horrors of turkey baking, I will move on to the point of this post.

The only good thing about a turkey is the wishbone. I am a very superstitious person, and I truly believe in the power of this little white object. I was singing its praises to Reece tonight, and he mentioned that last year he wished for a baby when he won our wishbone duel.

We all know how that turned out, and frankly he is not allowed to wish on the wishbone for another three years.

Seeing as how this magical thing truly works, I plan to put in my request this year.

So now I want to know, if you could wish on a wishbone, what would you wish for?

(I love reading comments, so this is a shameless way of asking for them)

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wish to make.