They're Watching You!

I went with my clan to get the Thanksgiving gobble yesterday. It's a bit of a tradition.

Here they are staring at us. I think they know that we're going to eat one of their own.

Usually when you gobble at them, they gobble back furiously. Yesterday they were just silent. Very creepy.

Happy Thanksgiving, my cherubs!

Gobble-icious

It's that wonderful time of year again! The time for homemade eggnog!

Wait, that's not what I meant to say... OK, maybe it is.

The time of year when we all want to hibernate has come. The time of excellent food, wine, and company. A time of tradition.

*Cue the Fiddler on the Roof music*

A part of me wishes that I was in Utah today, because today is the day that GF goes to the turkey farm to pick up the Thanksgiving turkey. (30 lbs this year, thank you very much.)

Apparently, the grandkids never grow out of the urge to accompany him. Granted, we all go through a phase of "This place SMELLS BAD! It smells like COW POO!!!" We all come back around, though. My cousins Christopher and Chance are going with him today and they're in their late teens. I'm sure my cousin Amanda (who just turned 21) would go with him too, if she weren't in school.

And you, yourself, Kati? Would you go?

In a heartbeat. And I might even let GF talk me into having a calf suck on my finger.

But, because I'm here, in balmy Los Angeles, I get my auntie's homemade eggnog. Such bliss, so much rum.

*Cue the Pirates of the Caribbean music*

I'll peel potatoes while I watch the Macy's parade. We'll watch the dog show while the turkey's cooking. We'll eat until we can eat no more. Then we'll wait awhile and have some pie.

Josh's Kentucky Pecan Pie... with dark chocolate and bourbon....

And Friday? Leftovers.

HAPPY GOBBLE DAY!!!

I Love Gobble Day!

"We don't give thanks in England. We mourn the loss of the colonies."
-Hugh Laurie

There are many things I dearly love about Thanksgiving. I love the memories of going to get the turkey at the turkey farm with Grandfather. He'd somehow talk me into having a calf suck on my finger. We'd stand in front of the turkey pen and say, "Gobble! Gobble!" And all the turkeys would gobble back at us. (For more on that, read my Auntie's blog post Becky in the Straw!)

I love sitting in my PJ's, watching the Macy's Parade. The Broadway stuff is always my favorite. And marvelling at the Rockettes!

I love breaking bread for the stuffing the night before. Ordering pizza and succumbing to the zen quality of reducing three loaves of bread into fingernail sized pieces. Watching GM mix the herbs and melted butter. Sneaking pieces of the herby, salty goodness to munch on.

I love naming the turkey and freaking out my family.

Setting the table and trying to figure out how on Earth I can squeeze that many people at a table that big. Pulling out all the fancy dishes and wine glasses. Finding the gravy boat, the mashed potato bowl, the stuffing bowl, and the nice butter dishes.

I love trying to keep the gravy off my roll. I love making a perfect divot in my potatoes, putting in the butter, covering it up, and waiting for it to melt. I love covering the whole piece of pie with whipped cream, so every bite has an equal amount on it. I love the shiny jeweled quality of a can of cranberry sauce, still ribbed from the can.

I love the lethargy that comes after eating SO MUCH food.

I love leftovers on Friday.

I loved that year when the power went out and we ate by candlelight. I love that we were seriously considering whipping the cream with a cordless drill and a whisk attachment.

I love GM's stuffing, Robyn's brussel sprouts, Susan's carrots, Josh's pie, and anybody's mashed potatoes.

I love my family and friends.