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For years now, or has it only been a week, we have had turkey for every meal at our home. It’s not so much that I’m tired of eating turkey as it is how many more ways can you serve turkey?

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage is quite adept at making things last as long as possible. She operates the household under the strict rules of frugality. She calls it frugal but under my breath and away from her presence, I simply call it being cheap.

I’m not sure how many ways there are to make turkey but we have had roast turkey, sliced turkey, turkey sandwiches, turkey salad, turkey soup and something that looked like . . .

For years now, or has it only been a week, we have had turkey for every meal at our home. It’s not so much that I’m tired of eating turkey as it is how many more ways can you serve turkey?

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage is quite adept at making things last as long as possible. She operates the household under the strict rules of frugality. She calls it frugal but under my breath and away from her presence, I simply call it being cheap.

I’m not sure how many ways there are to make turkey but we have had roast turkey, sliced turkey, turkey sandwiches, turkey salad, turkey soup and something that looked like turkey pâté. In the back of the refrigerator is a plate of turkey bones and I’m not quite sure their destination. If I eat something rather crunchy that I have not eaten before and the plate of turkey bones in the back of the refrigerator is gone, I think I know what I just have eaten.

My job as the dutiful husband is to eat whatever is set before me without complaining and congratulate the cook on the marvelous meal. Not only am I running out of adjectives to heap on my compliments but I’m also running out of enthusiasm.

In the midst of this turkey collage, I developed a hungering for a simple slice of baloney. I know it sounds ridiculous, but the more I thought about it the more I had baloney on my mind. Of course, my wife has made this observation many times in the past.

I decided to do something about my urge.

Stopping at the supermarket, I purchased a nice package of my favorite old-fashioned bologna. I was beside myself as I drove home and promised that this would be a little secret just between me.

After all, I’m a grown man and my wife doesn’t need to know everything I do. What she doesn’t know can’t get me in any trouble, is my motto.

I must confess to sneaking a delectable slice on the way home. But thanks to some industrial breath mints in the car for such occasions, I was quite sure my wife would not smell it on my breath.

When I got home, I carefully wrapped the “package” and concealed it in an obscure part of the refrigerator behind the plate of turkey bones. I must confess life was beginning to look up.

That evening as we sat down to our turkey soup and turkey salad supper I couldn’t get the baloney out of my head. I savored the thought of a nice slice of baloney before going to bed. In my book there is nothing like a slice of baloney to spice up your life.

Everything was working out just fine. Supper was over, the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher and the kitchen put in order. I sat down to do some reading while my wife went back to her craft room to do some puttering.

I heard the whirling of the sewing machine in the back room and thought this would be a great opportunity for me to treat myself to a spicy slice of baloney. Tiptoeing to the refrigerator, I was careful not to make any noise. Cautiously, I opened the refrigerator door and plunged into the back of the refrigerator where my stash was hidden.

Panic sliced through my mind when I came up empty. Rooting around throughout the refrigerator, I still could not find any trace of my hidden treasure. I had looked forward to this moment all afternoon and had suffered through another turkey dinner in anticipation of my bologna treat.

No matter how hard I looked, the bologna was not there.

Just then, I heard my wife come into the kitchen. Quickly I grabbed a can of soda to cover up the intent of my inquiry and closed the door. Whirling around, I came face-to-face with my beloved.

“You know,” she said rather reflectively, “there was a bag of something in the back of the refrigerator that had a terrible stench to it. I have no idea what it was so I had to throw it out.”

With that statement, my heart sank and all the hopes of life seemed dashed upon the landscape of my disappointment. Then she threw a suspicious eyeball in my direction and said, “Do you have any idea what it was?”

I wanted to say, “That was my dream treat for the evening. That was what I was living for all day. That was what was going to get me through another day of turkey.”

Instead, I casually popped open my soda and incoherently mumbled something like “I dunno.” She looked at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and it was then that I knew she knew but I did not want her to know that I knew.

I was painfully reminded of a verse of scripture that always has a sobering effect upon me when I read it. “But if ye will not do so, behold, ye have sinned against the Lord: and be sure your sin will find you out.” (Numbers 32:23 KJV.)

I may get away with hiding something from my wife, sometimes. However, with God it is a different story.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road in Silver Springs Shores. He and his wife, Martha, live in the Shores. Call him at 687-4240, or e-mail \n This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it . The church Web site is www.whatafellowship.com. 

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