@alexisfornevada.com is the current progressive Democratic candidate for Nevada governor.

I mean listen we all growing up had an all purpose plastic mixing bowl that one day was for popcorn and the next for puke. Still.

I had a coughing fit at the time. Of another variety.

I’m all about the “may my pain be healed by the enjoyment of others” 😅😂

May my pain be your pleasure 😅

Alright, @evansutton.bsky.social and @clairewillett.bsky.social here's the requested thread, freshly on bluesky upon request bsky.app/profile/rile...

No one got sick, thankfully. But I will never be able to think of brining anything ever again without this memory popping up. Thanks, Nana. And there you have it, my children. The story I’ll remember every holiday time Of the Thanksgiving meal, with the turkey poop-brine.

She asks if we want to take the leftovers. No, really, but thanks… she talked about then maybe she’d just bring them down to the homeless shelter, and we gently suggested that perhaps no one wanted poop-brine turkey.

We went a few rounds with her on this. Like, could she not have just asked us to borrow something? Driven the 10 minutes to Target? It just did not occur to her. This is my mom.

“Yes, but…” she says, starting to realize the grossness of this event but searching for a justification that will make this all better, “but, but… they’re your children!” “WHAT?! That doesn't mean we want to eat from their poop bucket!”

Slowly, the meaning of her words dawns on us. Forks fall from our fingers and clatter onto plates. “Nana, you used THAT BUCKET to brine the turkey?!” “Yes, but I washed it really really well first,” she says defensively, “I even bleached it!” “Nana, the POOP BUCKET?!”

So 3 heads for the bathroom and Nana watches him go. Once he closes the bathroom door Nana turns her head back around to us and says, with pride, “don’t worry, I cleaned it really well. I even used bleach.”

The kids hang at her house all the time and she has a system to deal with their concurrent bathroom needs: a bucket placed in the bathtub that has one of those portable child’s toilet seat things on it.

We’re about halfway through the meal when 5yo announces that he has to poop, and heads for the bathroom. He is followed a moment later by 3. Nana only has one bathroom in her house, but no worries.

She asks tons of questions about brining, like, “it says put it in the fridge but I don’t have space so what if I leave it in the garage – it’s not too cold out, is it?” We say it’s probably fine.

The day comes and we’re there and eating and it’s… strangely good! The bird is moist and flavorful.

In the days leading up to the meal, she asks us all kinds of questions on food prep. What do we want, will this work, will the boys like this, etc. She wants to brine the turkey, since she is worried (rightly) that she will overcook it and make an inedibly tough bird otherwise.

Nana really wanted to have a holiday meal with us (read: the grandboys) so she invited us over to her house for a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving meal. She inexplicably wanted to make the whole meal herself.

My mom, “Nana” as she is now known, is not a good cook. Never was, nor did she really aspire to be. This is a few years back when wife and I only had the two boys (3 and 5yo then) and we were going out of town for Thanksgiving.

I suppose it’s time.