A Turkey By Any Other Name…

Happy Thanksgiving Weekend from Canada!

Have you ever placed an exclamation mark at the end of a sentence and then pondered whether you really mean to be exclamatory?

I do this ALL the time! There are some instances where I just move that cursor on back and delete it and there are times when I really have to think about whether or not I do in fact feel this way.


Back to the topic at hand. It is the weekend to celebrate all the things we are thankful for in the land of the north. I am spending my weekend blissfully alone. (Which is probably why I am allowing the exclamation mark to stay in its place.)

With my turbulent emotional state over the last few months and what feels like a resurgence of my depression, I am finding myself enjoying my solitude rather than mourning the missed opportunity of spending the holiday with others. (My blog is called “Honestly” Austen – am I right?) I have not been able to spend it with my parents in the three/four years I have been away so I feel like this complete reclusiveness doesn’t feel so lonely.


I have decided to make my own turkey dinner (for one). And I am excited at the prospect of cooking a turkey and all my family trimmings to go along with it. And I find I am mostly sad about the fact that I do not have a name for the turkey.

Here is where I must explain how from my teenage years on, my family has always named our turkeys at both Thanksgiving and Christmas after the boys/men who have wronged us that year.

Now my sisters have had their share of naming the turkey and I have only twice honoured our tradition with a name. In the beginning, because I had always been in serious (insert eye roll here) long term relationships and now because I am seriously single. (I could barely type that with a straight face.)

Funnily enough, my first boyfriend of over three years, when breaking up with me in his truck in the overflow parking of a Real Canadian Superstore behind a Pizza Hut (I DO NOT MAKE THIS UP!) late autumn, asked me if I would not name the turkey this year after him. I kid you not. After telling me he no longer wanted to be with me, that he was in love with one of his exes and had been cheating on me for quite some time, he asked me almost immediately not to name the turkey after him.

I spared him, the Thanksgiving one, I did (as it was within the month and the name already called). But when it came to the Christmas one, I not only named it after him, stuffed it with abandon but also tagged it with just his first name.

A Turkey By Any Other Name


Was I heartless dear readers? (I had a hard time keeping a straight face while typing that as well.)

Anywho, what are some of your family Thanksgiving traditions (for those who come together to honour the things we are thankful for)?

I welcome any reader to join in our Turkey naming tradition and if you do please send me a photo or comment the name of your sacrificial turkey below.


Honestly Austen

Postscript: I did have a possible candidate but was unsure as to the degree of being “wronged” I felt in correlation to being turkeyed. Also, he shared a name with a previous turkey and I didn’t know if we can use the same name twice – lol. Even if it does belong to a different body. Although incomplete honesty I think the body attached to the initial turkey did, in fact, get turkeyed (over the years) more than once.


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