Thanksgiving
Surprisingly good day. Didn't get dressed until mid-morning, watched the parade on television and strained our eyeballs to see Gavin's grandma running with one of the balloon strings. Saw the top of her hat bobbing, cheered and called it a success. Ate biscuits and creamed eggs while the smells of stuffing filled up the house and Christmas music warbled in the background.
My pregnant auntie (it's a boy named Teddy) and entourage arrived and surprised us with homemade rolls, cinnamon buns, and green bean casserole, as we were expecting her to just bring a plate of brown-and-serve rolls. My mom spent too long on the phone with grandpa and came down in a hurry to discover she had overcooked the turkey. This meant that the breast was a bit dry, but the dark meat was falling apart perfectly. It all came apart when she lifted it, but we arranged the dismembered bits to resemble a whole bird anyway. I popped open a bottle of sparkling cider for my aunt, served up some white grape juice for the kids, and the rest of us worked on a couple bottles of moscato over steaming plates of ham, turkey, broccoli casserole, and bourbon sweet potatoes.
The boys enjoyed each other. "Oooh, Chris, don't cough on my glass, it could be yucky," Gavin said, and demonstrated coughing with his hand over his mouth. They practiced coughing politely until we distracted them with the task of blowing out the candles. We cleared the table and spread out the desserts, and they dug in, happy with the piles of whipped cream and many kinds of pies.
Washed up the dishes while the kids wrestled over trains and the grownups sat around on the couch, then we all walked across the street to see Happy Feet. I put together some containers of leftovers for my aunt, waved them off, and we called it a night after disassembling the feast table.
On to my birthday.
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