I know, I'm 2 weeks late. Sorry about that.
61.5 pounds. That's how much turkey I cooked. And I got Thanksgiving, plus dinner Friday night for 14, plus the following Monday for only 5, plus sandwiches and the usual free-range grazing! Good deal, I'd say!
Our oldest son wasn't here; he went to South Carolina to visit his in-laws, hence my practice Thanksgiving. And poor Shannon arrived sick as a dog on Wednesday afternoon, and went to sleep after eating some chicken soup I made for her. It wasn't a problem, really, because she had an aunt, a grandma and half a dozen uncles eager to steal her baby from her. When Cass arrived Thursday morning, however, she dragged Shannon off to the ER for a diagnosis of pneumonia. (Who ever said life around here was dull?) They pumped her full of IV antibiotics (Quoth Shannon, "Miracle of Witchcraft? You decide!") and she made an appearance for dinner.
Tank dressed up for the occasion. Dapper guy, that Tank.
The table, which is really what you all came to see.