Category Archives: I’m Still Learning

All aTwitter: Does journalistic responsibility exist in the microblogging world?

Posted in I'm Still Learning, Really long posts by
*Normally I write about toddlers, pregnancy and poop and take lots of picture of my food. But I lived another life once, one where I sat at a table and discussed major world news events. One where I carried a voice recorder and a notepad, where I got cauliflower ear from having a phone pressed up to my head for hours. One where someone actually paid me to observe and write. Today, I realized how much I missed that world and wondered if I was still responsible enough to be a part of it.

I love information. There’s way too much of it crammed into my brain, which serves as an organic file cabinet that probably could star in its own episode of Hoarders.

But it’s not just the knowing of things with which I’m obsessed, it’s the origins, communication and effects of that information that completely enthrall me.

I’ve spent time in several newsrooms and watched how gatekeepers uncover and disseminate information. I’ve been a gatekeeper myself. And perhaps the biggest lesson I learned from those experiences was that the sheer immensity of the responsibility that comes with knowing and sharing information can be overwhelming.

Before the advent of social media, that responsibility was easier to bear because timeliness was manageable. Information did not necessarily have to be instantly available because people understood what it took to prepare, fact check and present it.

But now in the age of Twitter where information is immediately accessible, easily searchable and instantly disseminated and corroborated, timeliness is all but impossible to manage.

This morning, Kansas City Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher shot his girlfriend at home, drove to Arrowhead Stadium and committed suicide in front of his coaches in the parking lot.

A HUGE story in any market, not just sports.

I found out about it when one of my friends tweeted a link to another tweet from someone with firsthand knowledge of the situation. It was just after eight in the morning.

It took another 15 minutes for me to find a second reputable confirmation of this event using Twitter. Another ten before a local news outlet posted a story.

At least a full hour before the news made it to the ESPN ticker on television.

And about sixty seconds before people started bitching at ESPN about not having the player’s name available when it had been known on Twitter for at least 45 minutes, and for taking so long to even break the story in the first place.

What most of these people don’t understand is that the levels of professional responsibility differ greatly from your average newshound on Twitter to your national news desk.

On Twitter, speculation is accepted, if not expected. Twitter is information and thoughts with no filter, with virtually no responsibility. This is what makes Twitter both great and terrible.

Great because its unfettered nature allows for unbiased dissemination. Great because it makes everyone a gatekeeper.

Terrible because there’s no collective agreement to hold anyone responsible for the effects of releasing sensitive information too soon. Terrible because fact checking isn’t really a priority for this army of “First”ers.

On ESPN, however, producers have to be absolutely sure of facts before they report them in a situation like this. They are held accountable for releasing a victim’s name before the family is notified. They hold themselves and are held to a higher standard of journalistic integrity.

This means that national sports news networks such as ESPN as well as broader networks like CNN no longer have the market cornered as breaking news sources. Instead, they’ve adapted to provide more in-depth coverage. (Some say this has forced them to become nothing more than a sideshow of talking heads.)

So, as the heir to the kingdom of breaking news, does Twitter need to police itself more carefully regarding sensitive information? Or is this just the future of news?

And what about sites like Wikipedia? Jovan Belcher’s death was updated almost immediately on that site. As several of my friends asked, “Who appointed themselves Wikipedia death updater? What kind of person thinks to immediately do that?”

I’ve done some soul searching this morning in regard to these questions. I know that I love seeing news break. I’m amazed at watching the rate of dissemination that’s possible these days. I like to be the first to know. And yes, I like to be the one who breaks the story first.

But what is my responsibility as a blogger and social media participant? Am I required to wait for the authorities to confirm details on a separate news source before I can share information? Or is there a point where I independently evaluate the credibility of my own sources and post as I see fit?

If I get it wrong, a 140-character retraction is probably enough to satisfy my followers. No one is going to be calling for my job or writing angry letters to my superiors. As fast as my online world changes, people probably won’t even remember my mistake an hour later.

But I’ll know, and since one day I do want to return to the newsroom – or at the very least be a part of the journalism world in a freelance position – it would behoove me to not form any bad habits.

How do you think Twitter can hold itself accountable for accuracy in its spread of information? Is that even possible? Or does the commerce of Followers, Retweets and Favorites keep people loosely in line?

If I could turn back time – 18 Again!

Posted in Guest Posts, I'm Still Learning by

*Last year, Jamie at Chosen Chaos asked me to write a letter to my 18-year-old self as part of her weekly feature. It was a hard letter to write, mostly because it’s hard to look back on your life and see the mistakes you’ve made, and know you can’t get that time back. But it’s also great to be able to look forward and say that you’ve learned your lesson and will do better. 

Jamie has asked all of us who’ve participated in the feature to re-publish our pieces on our own blogs if we’d like to, and link up here together with all of our letters. I’m looking forward to reading the letters this weekend, and I hope you have a chance to look at them all too.

Dear 18-​​year-​​old Julie,

Happy Birth­day! You’re going to grad­u­ate high school tomor­row. This sum­mer, while you’re wait­ing to leave this small town you hate so much and head off to col­lege, remem­ber to spend lots of qual­ity time with your fam­ily. Don’t fight with them, because when you get to that dorm room, you’re going to want one more chance to say your good­byes the right way.

In fact, you’re going to spend the next 14 years of your life really suck­ing at good­byes. In order to pre­vent your­self from being hurt, you’re going to try to make your exits ugly.

Stop try­ing to set every bridge on fire.

Ok, so there might be a few bridges that should burn. Just be sure you’re done before you light that match is all I’m ask­ing.

When you get to col­lege, don’t worry so much about hav­ing a social life. You didn’t work so hard to get here just to throw it away for a few par­ties. Go to class. Even the 8 a.m. ones.

Actu­ally, just don’t sched­ule any 8 a.m. ones. That’s prob­a­bly smarter.

Don’t be afraid that you don’t belong or that you’re not good enough to be what you really want to be. You were blessed with a big brain in that mas­sive melon of yours, and it needs to be put to work. It doesn’t func­tion well with fail­ure.

Even­tu­ally, you’ll grad­u­ate col­lege, some­thing you can’t even imag­ine at this point. Do not panic and marry the guy you’re dat­ing at that time just because it’s what you think comes next. Divorce is expen­sive.

Be nicer to your mom. She did the best she could. Later, when you’re a mom – oh, and you do get to be a mom; I know the mis­car­riages will freak you out, but just wait, you will have the most awe­some son one day – you’ll real­ize that par­ent­ing is hard and there is a lot of pres­sure to be per­fect.

Be more judi­cious when choos­ing friends. Just because you’re in a new place and don’t know any­one does not mean you should trust the first smil­ing face that comes your way. But don’t shut every­one out, because there are truly good peo­ple in this world, just some­times it takes awhile to find them.

Don’t wait until you’re 32 to learn how to con­trol your tem­per. Yes, it’s part of who you are, this fiery atti­tude, but your words carry great power and can cause great pain. You’re not the type that wants peo­ple to be hurt, so even when you’re angry, take a time­out before evis­cer­at­ing some­one with them.

Also, you’re going to date a lot of losers. Holy cow, can you ever pick ‘em. And I’d say to avoid that, but I think it will make you appre­ci­ate the man you do end up with even more. He’s a prince among men for sure, and he’ll love you through all your issues and tantrums and fears – until one day you don’t even strug­gle with them any­more.

OH! One more thing. When Hur­ri­cane Ike comes through in 2008, pack up all your stuff in a mov­ing truck. Some things can never be replaced.

Love,
Your 33-​​year-​​old, ridicu­lously happy, ever-​​so-​​blessed self.

Soup’s on Sunday: Meal Planning with Pinterest

Posted in I'm Still Learning, Noms by

By now I’m sure most of you are using Pinterest, if for nothing else than to amass a large collection of obnoxious Someecards.

Or maybe that’s just me?

Pinterest is useful for other things too though, like meal planning. Since I tend to Pin links to recipes all willy nilly, it can be daunting to go dig back through them each evening for a particular link. So, I’ve begun making a weekly menu that has helped keep me organized.

On grocery day I browse through my collection on my Kitchen board, then re-pin any recipes I want to use for that week on my This Week’s Menu board. I make my shopping list from there.

When it comes time to prep a meal, I can access everything with just my phone in the kitchen. This is a vast improvement over the days when I used to haul my laptop in there and try to find a safe place for it among the splatters. Oh, and hey, who remembers those things called cook “books.” So quaint.

Using the Pinterest app for the iPhone, I go to my boards.

If I just selected Kitchen, I’d have to dig around for my recipe. Oh look, I pinned nothing but carbs. How…usual.

This is where This Week’s Menu comes in handy again with its much smaller selection.

There it is, there’s the Pin for the shells I want to make.

When I tap on the Pin, it takes me to the website where the original recipe was posted. (If I’ve Pinned it correctly, that is. But that’s a whole ‘nother post.)

I can even use my phone to take photographs of the food, although I really should take a class in food photography and presentation, ‘cause mine never turn out quite as pretty as the inspiration.

But it still tastes pretty great, so that’ll do. That’ll do.

*If you’re not on Pinterest yet and are looking for a tutorial, may I direct you here or here. Or you can just find me on Twitter or Facebook and I can help walk you through. It’s a great tool for organization and inspiration and doesn’t have to be as overwhelming as some might make it out to be.

A gocky by any other name

Posted in I'm Still Learning, Monkey, Parenting by

My kid’s first word was cookie.

But not “cookie” all sweet like. No, it was a growl, like The Cookie Monster on day three of the Sugar Busters diet.

COOOOOKIEEEE.

Since that day he first growled his request for a snack, his vocabulary has increased quite a bit. He has many words for food (no surprise there) and knows all the names of his family, dogs included.

He’s begun to form sentences, sing songs and give commands.

He’s basically a hungry, musical dictator.

Usually I’m too busy marveling at the miracle of learning that’s always taking place in his head to notice that I’m being bossed around by someone who can’t reach the light switch, so it’s ok though.

***

We’ve had a few mishaps with language learning this year, mostly adult words that he picks up on accident.

No sweat though, I just substitute something else when he repeats our expletives.

“Shit!”

“Yes, son, that is a nice SHIRT you’re wearing. Is that your SHIRT? I like your SHIRT.”

See? Easy enough to redirect since his speech isn’t that clear in the first place.

Today though, I forgot to do something and said, “CRAP,” really loudly.

“Crap!” he repeated. “Crap. Crap. CRAP.”

Clear as a bell, no baby talk there.

***

We’ve decided to use proper words for body parts with our son. So it’s penis, and boy, do I get tired of saying penis. You know when you say a word so many times it loses meaning?

Penis. Penis. Penis.

***

Monkey likes to climb in my lap sometimes and touch my face, naming the parts of it. It’s very sweet, as long as he’s gentle when he gets to “eyes.”

“Cheeks. Chin. Mowwwwwth. Hair. Eeeehs.”

And then he gets to my “beauty mark” on my temple.

“MOLE,” he says, and my husband chimes in.

“MOLEY MOLEY MOLE!”

Thanks, Austin Powers.

***
Somehow, the kid picked up the word “boobs.” He uses it in the correct context. I’m so…proud?

“Boobs, mama.”

“Yes, son. Those are mama’s boobs. Leave them be, please.”

“Mama? ‘Dose Dada’s boobs.”

Well. I guess we know where he learned that word after all, don’t we?

***

Some words he misses completely. No matter how hard we try, he either can’t or won’t pronounce them correctly. So to hell with it, we’ve renamed a few things.

Blanket is “gocky.”

Diapers (Pull Ups) are “boppies.”

Lawnmower is “mow car.” Makes sense, yes?

Oh, and all boys aged six to 13 are named “Josh.” My nephew, the one actually named Josh, gets a kick out of that.

***

Manners are important to us here. “Please” and “thank you” came not long after his first cookie demand request. “Sorry” he picked up after he learned to throw.

I figure “excuse me” should be next, but I can’t stop laughing after he farts at the table long enough to teach it to him, and we still clap when he belches. Parents of the year, I tell you.

What “new” words has your family adopted? What words do you wish your kids never learned?

On Tuesday, May 15th, I am going to attempt to climb the Mt. Everest of blog commenting and visit every damn one of the linkers at YeahWrite #57. This will require lots of caffeine and cooperative children who take long naps. Also several episodes of Backyardigans.

Thoughtful Thursday: The bucket

Posted in How was YOUR day?, I'm Still Learning by

During my training as a teacher, I was given an analogy that compared relationships to a bucketful of acorns.

The speaker held up an empty metal bucket. He said, “This is the person you’re in a relationship with.”

He placed acorns on the table in front of him. He said, “These are moments. They are kind words and insults. They are good deeds and trespasses.”

He handed the bucket to a woman sitting nearby. He told her she was doing a wonderful job at preparing for her career. Then he placed an acorn in the bucket.

Then he left the room and came back with a soda from the machine outside. He handed it to the woman and put another acorn in the bucket.

Then he kicked her.

Not hard. Just enough to catch her off guard and make her a tiny bit nervous.

He reached in the bucket and took out an acorn.

“Every interaction with people consists of deposits and withdrawals. You want to make sure you’re making as many deposits as possible, because eventually, even by accident, you’re going to end up making withdrawals,” he said.

I think about that demonstration all the time.

***

Now I’m not so great at banking, but I do know that if there’s $100 in my checking account and I write a check for $150, it’s gonna bounce.

And so I also know that with people in my life, if I care to have them around at all, if I care to make a positive impact on their life or want them to trust me, I need to invest in them.

I need to put acorns in the bucket.

But what happens when you’ve made several deposits in the other person’s bucket but they never make any in yours? What happens with they’ve given you no acorns and then they walk up and kick you?

Even if you’re a forgiving person (and I struggle with that) you’re going to feel that person is bankrupt after awhile. You’re going to take your empty bucket and go somewhere else.

You can’t ever get back the acorns you put in their bucket either. You gave time and thought and maybe even money to this person, but it’s an investment you can’t ever touch, because really what they’ve done is just dump out the bucket.

Today I realized that I made deposits in another’s bucket for no reason. I realized that every time I gave, and they took, that they never tried to reciprocate.

I looked down and not only was my bucket bereft of acorns, it had some IOUs in there. It was an account that was severely overdrawn.

So I’m closing that account. I’m taking my bucket elsewhere. And while I’m not ok with that, while I had hoped for better, I have to accept that some people are incapable of handing out acorns.

Are your buckets full? If not, how do you wish others would invest acorns in you?

Maybe it’s time

Posted in Embarrassing photos, How was YOUR day?, I'm Still Learning, Monkey, Parenting by

Maybe it’s not.

The Internet, the library and probably your mom are full of advice when it comes to potty training.

“There is no right age.”

“You were potty trained when you were 18 months old.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s going to Kindergarten in diapers.”

Over the last month, I’ve read testimonials about “The Naked Weekend.” I’ve seen warning posts by pediatric urologists about training too early. I’ve listened to moms of many children say that it’s better to start earlier than late.

I’ve taken it all into account, and my family – Mama, Dada and the Monkey – well, we decided it might be time.

Monkey knows the words.

“Mama, poo poo.”

“I tee. Tee, Mama.”

“Potty! Elmo potty! I potty!”

He’s finally learned what to call certain body parts.

“Peeeeeneees. I peeenneeeees.”

And of course, he loves to flush. (Bye, toilet paper! Bye Cheerio I was saving for later!)

So we ditched the diapers. We bought a potty with a better splash guard than the one our Pop built us. (It’s gorgeous, Pop, but the kiddo is too chubby in the bottom to fit just right.) We picked up some ridiculously cute underwear.

And we set out to try that naked weekend.

 

First up, we had to get Monkey used to the new potty. So we sat and played on the iPad, we ate lots of Goldfish and we sang songs.

Cool, sitting on the potty is cool.

We had already been talking about how the tee tee and the poo poo, they go IN the potty. We’ve modeled the behavior. (I peed in front of someone on purpose. This is what parenthood does to you.) We were ready for this.

Dudes, you are never ready for this.

You are never ready to watch your kid begin to squeeze one out over in the corner and see yourself rush, faster than you ever thought possible, to get him on the potty.

You are never ready to clean pee off the curtains. Twice. In one day.

And you’re never ready for how freaking excited you are when your kid makes his way over to the potty by himself, squats, and drops a deuce.

He’s sitting there, strangely relieved, wondering how this wiping thing is going to work and you’re doing the Jerry Maguire “Show Me The Money” dance on the couch.

He’s up and quietly picking through the building blocks next to the potty and you’re contemplating photographing the evidence of his triumph to send to your husband at the baseball game so he can share in the moment. (Yeah. I did.)

And then it hits you…you have to dispose of the turd. You can’t just wrap it up in the diaper and toss it in the trash. What if you try to dump it in the toilet and miss?

Thankfully, everything was disposed of properly and completely sanitized in time for round two: The tee. The tee has to go in the potty too.

There was much frustration in this department because my kid? He wants to tee standing up. Of course he does, that’s how Dada does it.

So what do I do? Ask Dada to tee sitting down? Psh, like that’s gonna happen.

Anyway, the last few days have mainly been comprised of me herding my son and his junk toward the potty several times a day, celebrating when the tee makes it into the potty and grumbling silently to myself when I have to soak it up out of the carpet instead.

He’s still bottomless most of the day and wears a pull up during sleep time, but every now and then, when the danger of leakage has subsided, he gets to wear his Big Boy Pants.

I think we’ve got lots of work to do until he’s completely ready to venture out in his Manly Drawers, but I tell you what – Mama is definitely trained now.

 

It was bound to happen

Posted in How was YOUR day?, I'm Still Learning, Monkey by

It was just a matter of time, really.

I was going in and out of the storm door to grill dinner. Monkey was standing inside, curiously peering around my legs while I zipped by.

Open, shut, click. Open, shut, click. The door was just as busy as I was.

Until suddenly it was open, shut, AAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I had it back open in a flash, and was down on my knees investigating the trauma, relieved that his finger was at least still attached.

He cried heartily for about three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds of the worst noise a mama’s heart can handle. The pain cry. The heartbroken cry. The “this is YOUR fault, you didn’t protect me” cry.

I consulted Dr. Google about toddler finger injuries, dosed the boy with ibuprofen and tried to get him to let me ice his finger.

Or cold rag it.

Or first aid cool compress it.

Or, eff it, frozen corn it.

Nuh uh. Nope.

So I did the only thing I could figure out to do. I set a bowl of water in the middle of the kitchen floor, tossed a few ice cubes in it, and told him to “go fish.”

Dontchaknow, that worked wonders. He played in the water and ice for a good 15 minutes, long enough to keep most of the swelling at bay.

And then, when I looked away for 0.46 seconds, he dumped it all over the kitchen floor, transforming it into a slip-n-slide.

For the rest of the day, anytime things were not going his way or I told him NO, he would hold up the injured finger in my face, frown, and begin to whimper.

And that’s why we had candy corn, cake and chocolate milk for dinner.

And I would do anything for love…

Posted in I'm Still Learning, Marriage by

*Warning: This post might offend vegetarians. And anyone with common sense, which I am obviously lacking today. 

The hubs and I, we don’t really do Valentine’s Day. It’s not that we hate candy and flowers, it just one of those take-it-or-leave-it holidays.

So this morning was just like any other morning – we got up with the kiddo when he started squawking from his crib. Hubs let the dogs outside to potty, I plopped the munchkin in his high chair with some Cheerios and yogurt and then we sat down to read the morning news. (Ok fine, we were on Twitter. Shut it.)

After breakfast, Monkey and I read some books and hubs headed to work. A few minutes later the phone rang.

“Some fat guy in a diaper was on our porch,” my husband said.

There’s still a few inches of snow on the ground and the cat refuses to stay out at night, so I was thinking about how uncomfortable that nappied nincompoop must be out there when my husband added, “He was wearing wings.”

Most women would have caught on at this point, but I actually had a neighbor once who checked his mail while wearing pink underwear, a tutu and alien antennae, so instead of thinking “Cupid,” I was thinking “I hope that door is locked. Where’s my gun?”

Then, over the phone, I heard this weird mouth-fart noise that could only be my husband suppressing a giggle.

“You got me a card, didn’t you?” I asked, feeling like crap because I hadn’t done any Valentine’s planning at all.

And indeed, he had. It was punny and silly and perfect, and inside he’d penned a beautiful letter. I thanked him and we hung up.

As the morning progressed, I thought hard about how to reciprocate his spontaneous declaration of love.

Well you know, of course I decided on food.

We were going to have tacos for dinner tonight – not the fanciest fare even if the tortillas were going to be freshly made.

Suddenly, this post I’d seen the day before popped into my head. Restaurant- style steak! Men love red meat that’s dead, having been drowned in butter, but barely qualifying as cooked. (Or at least, mine does.)

Except that he has the car seat in the truck with him at work and it’s not like I can just zip over to the store with a toddler in the trunk of the car, and we don’t have any steak here…exactly.

Oh! But what we did have was a huge beef tenderloin my mother had bought for Christmas dinner. We’d never actually gotten around to cooking it, so it was taking up an entire shelf in my deep freeze.

Now, that’s way too much meat for our little family to consume in one meal and since we’re heading out for a little vacation later this week I didn’t want to waste it by defrosting the whole thing.

“I know,” I thought. “I’ll just cut off a little piece of the end, slice it into steaks and serve them with roasted rosemary potatoes. What man doesn’t like steak and potatoes?”

Armed with my sharpest knife, I headed into the garage to the deep freeze.

I’d seriously underestimated a couple of things.

One, the size of the tenderloin. This was a $70 hunk of beef, y’all.

Two, frozen meat is freaking hard. The knife wouldn’t even scratch the surface.

So there I am downstairs with a hunk of frozen beef that resembles a cadaver leg – trying to come up with a way to lop off the end of it – when I caught sight of hubs’ tool chest.

“I’ll chisel this mother off, “ I said to myself, returning to my beefy challenge with a hammer and a (very clean) wood chisel.

You know, I discovered that would be a great way to cut beef medallions, but it wasn’t going to get me a clean slice through the middle.

Luckily, a more thorough search of the tool cabinet revealed a fresh, unopened package of new hacksaw blades.

Now I’m standing on a pile of dirty towels, this large, plastic-wrapped tenderloin pinned to the top of the washing machine which was the only clean flat surface available, vigorously sawing back and forth while meat confetti flew everywhere.

But I got a chunk cut off that sucker for dinner. Oh yes I did.

It was about 15 minutes later, after I’d cleaned up the murder scene in the garage that I realized he’d taken the car to work and left the truck – complete with toddler car seat – in the driveway for me to use.

Linking up with Yeah Write #44! You should really come check out the posts there. No two are alike. 

If I Could Turn Back Time

Posted in Guest Posts, I'm Still Learning by

Dear 18-year-old Julie,

(with the fuzzy eyebrows and penchant for terrible gold jewelry)

We need to talk. There are a few things you’re going to totally screw up over the next few years.

Luckily, my friend Jamie at Chosen Chaos has given me this opportunity to write you a letter.

Since Jamie can work magic, like the time she removed melted crayon out of an entire load of a laundry, I figure maybe she can get this letter delivered and save us some grief.

Love,

The other you

Head over to Jamie’s and see how I screwed up and how I would change it.

Photobucket

*Comments are closed. Please head over to Jamie’s place and spread some love there!

Monday Meals: Talkin’ Turkey

Posted in I'm Still Learning, Noms by

Last year I hosted Thanksgiving at my house, which meant not only did I have to clean behind the toilet and wipe off the three inches of dust that collected on the ceiling fan, I also had to provide the turkey.

Now, I’m a pretty experienced cook but the thought of tackling the turkey freaked me out. I couldn’t face the possibility of burning the bird and having to serve cold cuts along side our beautiful casseroles and perfect pies.

Luckily, my mom had come into town and she walked me through the basics. I also added in a couple of ideas of my own and we ended up with a fantastic turkey and a magical meal.

I had a few requests from friends to share my turkey tips, so here you go.

Mamamash Talks Turkey: Do’s and Don’ts

DO plan ahead. Most turkeys are sold frozen, so you’ll need to plan for defrosting time. It takes 24 hours to defrost 5 pounds of turkey, so do the math and realize that 20-pound bird you’ve purchased needs four days just to reach a non-frozen state.

DON’T defrost the bird in the sink. It must be kept cold. Place the turkey in the refrigerator in a jelly roll pan lined with paper towels so you don’t end up with unwanted juices mingling with the fresh produce. Salmonella is not a good way to lose the holiday weight.

DO remember to remove the giblet bag once your turkey is defrosted. It’s not a nice surprise to pull it out in the middle of carving your bird at dinner.

DO brine your turkey. Once your turkey is defrosted, you’ll need an extra 12 hours to brine it. The night before, while you’re off marinating yourself in martinis in order to calmly handle your houseful of relatives, soak the bird in a salt solution in order to increase the moisture holding capacity of the meat. You can choose from many brines, like this one here, or this one, or this.

DON’T substitute one cup of table salt for one cup of kosher salt when making your brine. Table salt is much saltier.

DO continue to keep your bird chilled while brining. You must keep your turkey chilled to at least 40 degrees Farenheit during the brining process. If your brining container won’t fit in the fridge, put the turkey in a cooler, cover with ice, and pour the brine over the top. Stick it in the garage overnight if it’s cool outside. Last year, my turkey hung out in its cooler in the bathtub. To be completely honest, it was very odd to be doing my business next to a large dead bird, but definitely worth it.

DON’T attempt to deep fry a frozen or wet turkey. It will explode and burn down your house. Seriously, Google fried turkey mishaps. You’ve been warned. In fact, here are some great tips for frying birds.

DO let your turkey come to room temperature before cooking it. It will roast/fry/smoke more evenly that way.

Now, if you’re smoking or frying your bird, check here and here for tips on those two methods. I’m going to continue on discussing how to roast the perfect turkey.

DON’T be afraid of the butter. Pull a Paula Deen and set out a whole stick of butter, y’all. Soften it, then gently separate the skin from the bird and rub that butter all over the place. Give the bird a nice butter massage.

DO be creative. If you want to use herbs, place them inside the gap you’ve made between the breast and skin. If you like citrus, throw some orange slices into the bird’s cavity. Be sure to salt and pepper the skin as well. If you don’t have a roasting rack, line the bottom of a roasting pan with carrots and celery stalks to elevate the bird.

DON’T ever cook the turkey with stuffing inside. Yes, I know that’s how your mom did it. No, the fact that fact that you never got sick doesn’t discount the fact that it’s a recognized health hazard. If you must have your dressing flowing out of the turkey as you place it in all its glory on the table, stuff it with separately cooked stuffing when you pull it out of the oven.

DO truss up the bird’s legs for more even roasting. Also, it looks cool. Look, you’re a chef!

DON’T forget to preheat the oven. It can take 30 minutes for a cold oven to reach 325 degrees Farenheit.

DO roast the bird with its foil-covered breast side up in the oven at 325 for 20 minutes per pound if previously frozen and 12 minutes per pound if fresh.

DON’T even think about peeking until about 45 minutes before you estimate the turkey to be done. Remove the foil so the breast will brown and check the internal temperature. Baste with the pan juices.

DO ensure that the meat reaches 180 degrees at deepest spot between the leg and the breast.

DON’T immediately cut into the bird. Tent it with foil and let it rest for 20 minutes so the meat can absorb all the juices back in.

DO lay claim to your favorite piece before allowing anyone else near the bird. After all, you’re the one who’s been working on this dish all week and if you want a leg, dammit, you get a leg.

If you happen to run into a turkey emergency, don’t forget the awesome experts at the Butterball Turkey Talk-Line. I’ve never used their services, but I’ve heard that they are enthusiastic and very helpful.

Also, if you’d like to bring something besides green bean casserole to your family’s celebration this year, try this corn casserole from  The Bearded Iris.

Good luck and have a Happy Thanksgiving!