Since I’m not going home for Thanksgiving this year, I’m going to miss out on all my usual family traditions.
The one I’m going to miss most is working with Mom in the kitchen, working from this ole’ Paula Deen bible to get the best meal possible on the table come Turkey Day.
I often wish I could go on the Turkey Hunt with my Dad and two brothers, but my Dad says I’d just get in the way. He’s right, too, since the first time I went I screamed for the turkeys to run away and we had to go to Denny’s because I didn’t know how to act like a man.
My brothers say that Dad is at his most loving during the Turkey Hunt, and I can understand how the thrill of the hunt would bring out a different side of him. Maybe one year, when I’m old enough, I can show him I’m responsible enough now and show off my hunting skills (BOW AND ARROW, FTW) and kill a bigger turkey than him and cook it myself and eat it in his face.
But then Mom would have to make the sides by herself… maybe I should hold off on the bow hunt solo turkey run until I have kids of my own.
(This post was written & scheduled for posting on Tuesday, November 22nd; any changes in the news or social lives of the participants have not been accounted for)