This year we tossed a coin, and the kids will sit at the dining room table and the adults at the card table in the living room.
A secret I will take to the grave is how I carve the dark meat in slices and the white meat in chunks.
My wife says that this year she'll carve the turkey and I can carve the gelatin mold.
You can be humbled by praise, or you can be humbled by carrying in the turkey and having it slide off the plate into your mother-in-law's lap.
I've read where the body cells completely replace themselves every seven years. So at my age, I've already been ten different people, all with a tendency to forget the rolls.
This year we're having the words. "There's more gravy" stitched right on the napkins.
At our house we have a rule that the cook has to come to the table so we can all get started, then she can go back to the kitchen.
This year we've designated Aunt Viv to say grace and Uncle Howie to say "Let's eat."
As usual, we've invited an odd number of people, so there won't be a tie vote on whether to have the pies right after dinner or wait an hour.
As always, the pie-serving honors will go to Cousin Marian, who cuts the biggest slivers.
Speaking for myself, when I ask for a sliver of mince pie, I do mean a sliver.
I suppose I will die never knowing what pumpkin pie tastes like when you have room for it.
What greater blessings to give thanks for at a family gathering than the family and the gathering.
And Then Some...
"To ask why the front page always reports bad news is like asking why the obituaries always report somebody dying."
"Am I so unusual? I mean, if you had an imaginary friend who died, wouldn't you blame God?"
"I was the other day unaccountably sad and wondered if perhaps some secret admirer had passed away."
~~ Robert Brault