This is my mother. See that turkey on the stove? Raw? And dripping juice on the stove? My sister and I survived childhood. For that, we are thankful. (Hi Mom! Hahahahaha!)
This is the stuffing bowl. That's all it gets used for, I think. I will inherit this one day. But as you can see, my mother isn't handing it over yet. Something about prying it from her cold, dead hands… That Mom…she's a hoot!
This is Rosie. She'll be 16 right around Christmas. She is thankful that she has this spot on the couch. And that Stella is tiny, and if Rosie really wanted to, she could boot Stella into next year. But she doesn't. Because she's a princess and a lady.
This is my Dad. He's reading the sports pages. He is thankful my sister and I came over this morning to help Mom and he got to read the paper in peace. Poor guy, surrounded by so many females. He's also thankful his daughters are married and – bonus – each had a BOY child before they went and brought more females into the family.
The turkey they got still had a single feather sprouting from one of its wings. I'm sure the bird would be more thankful if it still had the rest of its feathers. And a head. And feet.
Here is Stella again. She would be thankful if someone dropped some scraps her way.
My mother is thankful Stella is a dog, and not a rodent. (Hi Mom! Hahahahahaha! Love ya!)
And here's the bird, stuffed and legs tied so he can't leap out of the pan and run off somewhere.
And that was it at Mom's house.
When I got home, I took these pictures…this huge sage plant grows out of the pavement beside our house. I mean, RIGHT BESIDE the house, in the crack between the house and the driveway.
The sage was bejelled with dewdrops when I left this morning, and they were still there when I got home.