Today we began Turkeypalooza, the week in which we eat more turkey than is probably legal. This was the 1st of 3 turkey dinners (the other 2 being Thanksgiving Proper at my mom’s house on Thursday, and 2nd Thanksgiving, in which I attempt to appease and not poison 19 of my in-laws, yikes). We traveled about 70 miles to the little town where my sister and her brood live to partake of the town Thanksgiving picnic, which includes a full-on meal (heavy on the starches), salient auction, a bake sale, and a craft sale. There is also, usually, a whole slew of games for the kids to play carnival style, but something happened to reduce that business to an ATV-pulled train and a bouncy house. But since we left the house in short sleeves due to the balmy conditions at home and arrived in the midst of a blue norther, I wasn’t too upset about the curtail on the outdoor activity.
Normally, my parents are part of our entourage, but as they are traveling to other familial parts with my grandma, they didn’t join us. They were missed. However, it seems the entire population of the town and those of several nearby burgs showed up, it wasn’t exactly a glaring absence. Holy cow, small towns like to show up and eat. We stood in line for a very long time (but having gone through this for a number of years, that was no surprise) and overfilled our plates and ate until we could no more. And then I collected the leftovers for tomorrow, because clearly 3 turkey dinners aren’t enough and the days in between must be filled with poultry and carbs.
We hung out for the rest of the afternoon digesting and watching my children misbehave. Sammy was captivated by their ongoing room addition project, since construction, especially when it takes place in a garage is high entertainment, indeed. Sabrina fell asleep on the way home, and is currently extremely crabby. And I am beginning the ramp up on my panic over how much I have to do to get ready for the rest of the week.
Let’s do this.