I may as well get it over with; as the good daughter I am expected to announce it. With great fanfare and a little cringe, I do declare...
my father the winner of this year's Gluttony Bowl. If you see a man hoisting a turkey trophy high over his head, running around town and saying "salt intake is key", that would be my Dad. Well done in your repeat, Dad. We are all impressed if not a bit worried about your kidneys and the seriousness with which you compete.
Ok, so Gluttony Bowl is a little over the top, but to me and my family it represents all that Thanksgiving stands for: food, family, and tradition. The beginning and ending to all those ridiculous stories that only families can share in with a clap of the hands or a roll of the eye.
another tradition: the clay pigeon shootout
Storytelling is not dead among families, unless overkill counts (oh boy, do you have tales like that in your family?). Stories link the years and provide keys to why we are who we are. My brother and I heard a brand new childhood tall tale this Thanksgiving. It was a doozy lobbed in by my Dad (not yet basking in his championship) that had us rolling and amazed that we had not yet heard that one, but therein lies the beauty- there are always more stories to tell.
Thanksgiving 2012, photo story edition:
pre-meal festivities- including eating and the Thanksgiving bonfire. Turkey leg name cards.
Albuquerque Turkey concert, misuse of said turkey legs, lots of birthdays to celebrate.
I'll take an extra helping of Thanksgiving, thank you very much. The gratitude. The family. The love. And all the ingredients that make for a great story: the good, the bad...
Oh yeah, you better believe I was going to make them.