Thanksgiving Dinner promised to be somewhat quiet, just my three girls and us over at Mom and Dad's house. Francisco asked to carve the turkey, which my father gladly surrendered, as he hates that job, and the fun began. The large turkey was precariously positioned on the counter, and when Francisco applied the right amount of pressure, the tray flipped the 20 pound bird off the counter for it's last flight, accross the kitchen!
The carver adroitly rescued the turkey from the waiting hounds, and offered that he had already carved off the best parts anyway. . .So, we ate what was already carved, and, well, no one was enthusiastic about the turkey leftovers this year.