That was not to happen this day. The Captain was there when we arrived (I seem to be writing in the royal we today), but before the turkey was pulled off the smoker, they were off to put out a house fire. The Captain, in typical rosy-glassed style, was sure it was one of those cell-phone samaritans calling in a "smoking" dryer vent again. But it turned out to be a house fire.
A note here about the turkey on the smoker: they are IN LOVE with their Traeger wood pellet smoker/grill because they can set it to smoke or roast their meat outside the door for a couple hours, whereas the ovens are wired to turn off whenever the garage doors are lifted and the engines leave the station. These days, that makes the ovens virtually unusable.
Meanwhile, the turkey is done. Visiting firefighters take it off the grill, carve it and toss it back into the oven to keep warm. Meanwhile, the green beans are beginning to become porridge.
Fast forward an hour: the Captain calls to say the fire is about out, but (lucky) they get to stay, mop up, and show the fire inspectors around. To kill time, I entertain a 18-month-old with my hilarious face and talent for holding a toy hippo just so.
Fast forward another hour: Another call comes in for yet another fire for the Captain's crew. The other crew sharing the station decide to eat quickly before they get another call. They get maybe ten minutes of face-stuffing before the next call comes in.
Eventually, the visiting fire fighters leave for their own stations. One other wife and I (and the baby who loooves me) decide to call it a night. We throw aluminum foil over the food and take the stairs for the exit.
As we leave, I see the Heavy Rescue rig pull up. I give The Captain the international palms-up signal for WTF, and he jumps out and gives me a sooty hug. He has soot on his face and hands and boots and coat. He has put out two house fires while you all have been having your Thanksgiving dinners.
Thank a fire fighter. Thank a soldier. And thank a cop.