Back to the wine.....I try. I like. What is it, I ask. Just a simple little question. But gets the most epic response. Mom, "Well, I can never remember the name so I just walk in the liquor store and ask: 'Do you have that wine that's in a blue bottle, I can't remember the name, but its something like Shithouse?'"
Holy Jesus Mother.
Schlink Haus....Shithouse. Close enough in Jules World (Jules would be Julie, my one in a million mother, well except for her 4 sisters who act just like her).
Jules also broke the cleaning tradition this year. So sad. See, every year, Ryan and I show up Wed. night prepared to wake up at the turkeyasscrack of dawn to clean every inch of her huge house (because I love to clean my own house, why not clean someone else's too, just makes sense) and get ready for Thanksgiving. This year.....nope. Didn't have to. It was like I was on vacation. Amazingness Do Nothing Vacation. Hardy (mom's bf) and Mom took off early and got damn near everything done before we got there. Yippeeeeeee, time to start the drunkfest earlier!
However on Thanksgiving morning, I did need to make my carmel apple cheesecake dip again. Since it was a raving hit at the work snack party. And I had a little help form my new sous chef:
|No Colt. No you don't.|
Sighting in their rifles. Off the deck. Literally two steps off the dining room.
|Sorry Wyatt, no birds. |
Except for the ones in the oven.
And you can't have those.
The carving of the birds.
The buttons are on the right Michael, no....your other right!
And leave it to my family to come up with this ingenious invention:
Nope. Not at all.
|I'm proud to say this was my idea.|
And I got to use my new gun. Look out, bad ass approaching....
|Yes, bad ass indeed, with my little smile and my boot coozie.|
|There's the real bad ass. In a dress. Shooting.|
I missed. A lot that day. Wasn't drunk enough, I suppose.
Loading the thrower thingy.
|You do good work Hardy.|
|More like dog poo. It's fine.|
|And that's just from the first round.|
And while we're on the subject of Hickville highlights, lets whip out the go cart.
Someone, and I'm not going to name names (uhheeemmmm, Little Brother), just couldn't hang.
But look at this little squishy cheeks a few hours later:
Lawd help us.
Later that night, when we're about 3 sheets to the wind, I decide that a trip to the casino is soooo in order. I mean, it's only about a mile from my Mom's house, why not? But who's going to drive......ummmm. That's when Mom pipes up and says, "Well, we've driven the 4-wheeler to the casino before." Nice, mother, nice.
We didn't end up making that glorious trip, but next time.....oh next time.
The following day we did a little hiking, a little napping, and Mom and Hardy did a little firewood cutting. Apparently my mother thinks that letting the fire dwindle to ash and throwing on logs and starting a new fire is for whimps. Lets just keep the fire burning for eternity. The devil would be comfortable, for sure. Because of this completely sane logic, she needs to LOAD UP on firewood every fall. And when I say LOAD UP, I mean LOOOOOAD UP.
And finally, you know that old saying: 'like mother like daughter'. Well, not in this family. No sireeeee. It's more: 'like daughter like mother'.
Yes, mom, you are now just as coolpants as moi. Your welcome.
Nothing beats my family's Turkey Day. Absolutely nothing.