At approximately 12:40 Thanksgiving morning I was awakened by my delightful husband talking to himself.  He had been out, corrupting the librarian with the help of the referee and was back home, ready to put our 15 lb turkey in the oven.  In years past, he had scheduled away games on the night before Thanksgiving, so had gotten in the habit of throwing the turkey in the oven before going to bed.  We wake up to the smell of roast turkey.

Can you think of a better way to start Thanksgiving?

I had gone to bed about an hour earlier but woke slightly as he mumbled around the room.  Seeing me awake, he said (unless I dreamed it) "Do we have anything I can stuff inside it?  Apples, or bananas?"

"Bananas?"  I said.  "You want to stuff a banana in the turkey?  That's obscene!"

I laughed so hard I woke myself up.

The next morning I got up first and headed into the kitchen whence the delicious aroma drifted.  He does a great job of cooking the turkey but not so much on cleaning up after it.  He's thoughtful enough to let me feel like I had a hand in the meal prep that way.  While cleaning up, I noticed, among other things, a banana peel on the counter.

He had stuffed a banana in the turkey.

Actually, he had made a kind of batter out of banana, orange, apple, croûtons and garlic in the Cuisinart (a half a cup of goop still in it) and stuffed the bird with it.  It smelled awesome.  When he got up a bit later and took the bird out of the oven, he scooped out the stuffing and chucked it, saying it was for cooking, not eating.

Turns out banana turkey is pretty dam good.  It was so moist that the meat not only fell off the bones, the bones fell off the bones. 

We had that carcass stripped and the meat all put away long before it was time to head out to Pam and Steve's for early dinner.  It was a small, intimate gathering of about 30.  A very subdued affair.  There was no crying.

After scarfing pie and whipped cream, which I declined, not liking pie and loathing whipped cream, we said our goodbyes and headed down the road to my folks where a slightly smaller, yet noisier crowd was gathered around waiting to tear into the fifty lbs of bird my Mom had cooked.  We ate and ate and ate and then we ate some more.

Katelyn and her beau, Chad were in town from Chicago.  Katie's beau, Adam had driven all the way in from Missoula.  He said he made it in 17 hours, which I find impossible to believe.  Tyler wasn't here, but in Denver, where he and his lass, Megan had driven from Austin to spend the Holiday weekend with Margy and the boys.  Ty said the trip was a nightmare; stop and go bumper to bumper all the way.  What should have been a ten hour drive took twenty.   That I believe. 

A swell time was had by all and our fridge is stuffed with leftovers.
 

It was another great Thanksgiving.

 

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