According to Noni no one said a word about the foul looking fowl, and everyone ate their meal quickly and without much comment.
Noni passed away more than a decade ago now, but every Thanksgiving I think of this story and her green turkey. (6/6)

It was DEEP GREEN! From the skin all the way down to the bones, it as green as a seasick Elphaba on St. Patrick's Day.
At this point, she couldn't very well not serve dinner. So apparently without commenting on it at all, she set the table and presented the main course to her in-laws. (5/6)

I should note, at this point, that all of her dishtowels at the time were a deep forest green.
While the turkey cooked she busied herself with the sides and other various sub-tasks that come with prepping a full Thanksgiving dinner.
And when, after a few hours, she checked on the bird...(4/?)

In the cookbook she used, it was recommended that when you put the bird in the oven you were to cover it with a damp dishtowel.
Being the diligent recipe follower that she was, Noni took the towel hanging on the rack, ran it under the faucet, threw it over the turkey, and put it in the oven. (3/?)

Noni was...not known for her cooking (I have plenty of memories eating at her house as a child, I don't have any memories of her cooking. We mostly had Pizza Hut.) and she was nervous but was confident she had everything prepared and would make a fine meal. (2/?)

The best description I ever read of copy editors is this, from Lawrence Downes in 2008:

“The copy editor’s job, to the extent possible under deadline, is to slow down, think things through, do the math and ask the irritating question.”