Well, we thought we were going to have a full house for Thanksgiving. Turns out, the universe had other plans. My daughter and the grandkids got snowed in up in Michigan—because apparently Mother Nature wanted them to stay home and shovel instead of eat turkey. My son in Texas said he was “strapped for cash,” which is the same reason he gives every single year. At this point, I’m pretty sure he’s running a long-term experiment to see how many times he can reuse that excuse before it expires. Then my sister and her husband couldn’t come because her kids had nowhere else to go for Thanksgiving. I guess we’re all just running an involuntary family daycare system at this point. So in the end, it was just us. Which would’ve been fine… except we had bought three turkeys. Yes, three. Our freezers looked like we were preparing for a poultry apocalypse. We managed to cram one in, baked another, and smoked the third one like it owed us money. By the time we added homemade noodles, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, homemade dinner rolls, oyster stuffing, and regular stuffing, it looked like we were feeding an army—or opening a buffet.