Thanksgiving is huge in our house because it’s just the four of us and my sister’s boyfriend, so it’s always special to have the five of us sat around the table with loads of tasty vittles in front of us. Maybe if we had a large family we saw all the time, it would be less of a big deal, but because it’s just us, that makes it more special, I think. My sister and I always end up telling The Turkey Story™ to anyone who will listen, even though it didn’t actually happen in real life the way the tale says it did. When my dad was little, his aunt was taking the turkey out of the oven and dropped it on the floor. She picked it up, cleaned it off, and stuck it back in the pan. However, the story alleges the turkey slid into the bathroom on a tidal wave of gravy and bounced off the tub….which didn’t really happen, but no one cares. As my dad tells it, he and my uncle have told that story so many times now, they actually remember it happening that way. I don’t care that I’ve heard that story probably a thousand times since I was a kid. It’s still funny.