I don’t think I would mind repeating this Thanksgiving Day tradition one bit:
First, wake up and go to the beach.
Next, fill up all sorts of devices with sand.
Find a “woof woof” that makes the one year old squeal to no end.
Become a master hole digger (and roll eyes at husband who threatens to use picture of wife as Facebook profile picture).
Contain Nash from the “dangerous current” in a sand hole.
Then, head home and play in the yard until the feast is ready.
At last, carve the turkey that has been cooking all night in an underground Hawaiian Imu Pit. Gather around the feast at the dining room table with the windows open and the fans circling. Admire the fresh flowered centerpiece (especially since picking the flowers resulted in my mother-in-law falling and shattering the bottom halves of her two front teeth – that part could probably be omitted from future traditions).
Last, relax with husband who has patiently waited for hours to watch the Lions game.
Most of all, create warm memories with family.