The Actual Day of Thanksgiving

So, yes, our strange family got up early and rolled out to Netarts, where the Bradfords and Maggie and Grandpa Vining and the fearless GrandmaToko awaited us. They'd arrived the night before. I had to quickly get the brined turnkey in the oven, and the girls had to get going on a snack.

Once all snacked-up, these ladies got to work on some Lincoln Log like action. Very fancy and rustic.

Others went out into the ridiculous gale!  The storm surge threatened them with many a sneaker wave!

Wet!  ERV likes to FACE the elements.

Meanwhile, G-Toko cracked some eggs and directed these grandchildrens.

Soon the whole team was put into action, fiercely preparing all manner of sumptuous vittles.  Pies and brussels sprouts, green beans and the like. All of this was done to some fierce amplified Japanese Martial Music; oftentimes G-Toko wears her MP3 player and marches around, oblivious (see earlier movie), but once we broadcast it you could feel the Vining Sisters blood begin to simmer.  (Sample conversation:  G-Toko:  "This song is about marching through the fields of China!" --march, march, march--  MAV:  "So it's about some kind of killing fields?"  G-Toko:  "Now, Maggie, that's not the way to think about it!  It's beautiful."

Anyway, so yes, what was I doing?  Flat wigging about the speed at which my organic free-range Heritage bird was cooking.  Too fast!  I was simultaneously submitting electronic letters of recommendation and figuring out how to slow that turnkey down!

Get out of my fricking way or I'll crush you between my biceps and my forearm!  Turnkey cooking makes me anxious and prickly and makes it hard to tell if the bird is any good.

But look at this outlay!

Miki ate nothing but cranberry sauce, just like her mother, 35 years ago.  And then I went to bed and left my camera out and someone took a picture of their bare butt with it.  I may share that image when I follow up on the day-after hikes and hijinx.