happy thanksgiving!

we took a few minutes to go see the rainbow turkeys at gozzi turkey farm today before going to my parents’  house:

no, we don’t know how they get them to look like that.  but the birds did look pleased that it was noontime on thanksgiving and they were still hanging in the pen outside, and not in someone’s oven…

turkeys are so strange.

the girls were happy that they were still around, too.

once at my parents’, we spent some time reminiscing about thanksgivings past.  we have a good time at every event, but our thanksgivings are epic…  the time David told my mom “Gee, your kids are getting big” and she heard “Gee, your HIPS are getting big.”  that’s the only time i think i’ve ever seen my mom throw a punch (she didn’t really, but i thought she might)

the time my uncle tried to kill me with oyster stew – no one in the history of the world has ever thrown up so much and so often ever ever ever, though he blames the oyster stew on David (poor guy, where is he now?).  no one else got sick, it was probably just a rouge oyster, but that will always be refered to as the year Jerry tried to kill Vanessa.

the time *someone* flushed chunky cranberry sauce down the toilet, but clogged the plumbing, and my uncle (it all comes back to him – troublemaker, much?) had to reach in the toilet up to his elbow to unclog the pipe.  we have to tell this story quietly or change the subject when my grandma is like: “w hat happened with the cranberry sauce?  why was your arm up in the toilet plumbing?” ixnay on grandma’s auce-say.  that was also the year my mom and my aunt were barking/howling out the kitchen window at people.  wtf?  i’m not sure any of us know…

the year the turkey took 147 hours to cook cuz someone (can you guess who?  follow the theme…) was basting it every 7 minutes

the year my 2 year old cousin locked herself in the bathroom and the guys had to take the door off the hinges to get to her.  when they got the door off, she was sitting in the bathtub, happy as a little clam.

and this is the year my uncle (yeah, it all revolves around him!) and my husband decided to klass it all up a little:

they’re drinking mimosas out of measuring cups.  a great way to keep track of how much you’ve had to drink, i suppose.  we’re a classy bunch, for sure.  and i’m never having the oyster stew again.  that was 20 years ago, and i’m still not right.

Explore posts in the same categories: home sweet home

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