Supposedly it’s the first day of December!? Uh… no it is not! Stop it right there, Black Friday three shades of pickled crazy shoppers! I would like to rewind a few weeks to June… do it all over again. Think about it people who invented Daylight Savings and sliced bread! For Thanksgiving, we made the 3-hour trek to Rexburg, Idaho to hang out with the Bergers… Uncle Shane and Pretty Jean (there’s an Uncle Gene in the family, so to distinguish the two, I learned Pretty Jean adopted a nickname)! They were sweet to have all of us ragamuffins invade their home turf… and by “all” of the ragamuffins I’m referring to Whitney the Ragamuffin. The rest of the invaders were good-looking respectable folk… there… how much money do I get for saying so?
There was food galore… a smoked turkey (done by Jean’s dad), a deep fried turkey (done by Jessica’s husband Delta), and a pressure-cooked ham (done by Jean). There were mashed potatoes with gravy and dressing and corn and vegetables and homemade Madre rolls and sweet potaters and Jell-O salad and yummerfied pumpkin cake and 4 kinds of pie and whipped cream, and cranberry drink and Mylanta and Pepto Bismol and a side of oh my laws, did I just eat all of that!? Much like the Grinch’s heart, Whitney’s stomach grew 5 sizes larger that day. America… the Land of the Food Coma. There was good company and I learned that my great great great great great grandfather (I may have added a few too many greats in there), James Sherlock Cantwell (no relation to Sherlock Holmes, I asked) had an affinity for calling a relations’ son a “supercilious puppy”. I’m thinking even back in the early to mid-1800s that wasn’t a compliment. I also put on a big ole show called Be as awkward as you possibly can during all conversation. Oh laws my conversational skillz need approximately 35 billion hours of work.
I was made to tell the annual story of how I was attacked by a turkey when 5 or 6 years old while on my grandma’s farm (though, my folks say it was my Aunt Marsha’s farm… Cuzzin Carl… did you train a turkey to sic future vegetarians in your younger years?) I really need to add embellishments to that annual story. Perhaps I can add in an alien element or some dude dressed as R2D2 walking his pet turkey… I’ll work on it.
After dinner and before dessert we had a rowsing rendition of gather round the piano where we butchered many a lovely Christmas song. JOKES!! Everyone there had lovely voices. I was mucho impressed even in the midst of my screeching to try to hit the high notes. No dogs were harmed in the restarting of this old tradition.
Of course we were missing some key people, aka JenJen and Seth and family. And of course, our sweet Spencer, who I’m sure was in heaven dining on homemade French bread to his heart’s content and wondering why we had no grilled venison Bergers down here.
Before anyone came, Dad tried to get sweet little Elise to warm up to him by feeding her oranges (it’s a running joke that she cries every time he gets near her). That didn’t work, so he attempted to wear her headwear.
The cute baby is NOT impressed!
Auntie Jessica taught her how to sing.
The two youngest kids of Bill and Ella Berger!
Thank you for the hospitality, Uncle Shane and Pretty Jean… you did good!