Poor Old Turk. Let's Eat.

We spent Thanksgiving at my parents' house in Aptos, with a quick stop in Sunnyvale to visit my Granny before her noon Thanksgiving feast thrown by her apartment community. It was a bit chilly when we left the City, a little warmer in Sunnyvale and absolutely gorgeous by the time we got down to Aptos. I was very disappointed. I prefer fog and drizzle on my holidays, Bay Area. My dad and sister did all the cooking while I guzzled juice and milk (the vicious cycle of heartburn!), looked at baby stuff with mom and snacked. I also napped.

My parents finally replaced the cat castle/giant cardboard box their new (it's two years old now) dishwasher came in with a proper cat tower. Otis was quite keen to show it off and mugged for the camera, which is weird because he's a neurotic little curmudgeon.

Kate showed Alex pictures of our odd American customs like dance recitals, Thanksgiving pageants and trips to the beach. I think she had more fun than he did.

Then we ate and jabbered, but not before saying my late grandfather's Thanksgiving grace, "Poor old turk. Let's eat," and clinking our flutes of champagne. If you want to check out a more eloquent Thanksgiving speech from my grandfather, go here. It was 2008 and Obama had just won and we were all very happy. I miss him a lot. He sure loved the holidays.

I grabbed half a pumpkin pie and we drove home. Poor Lane white-knuckled it over Highway 17. It's one scary stretch of road if you don't know it, but I just wasn't into driving and I don't even know if I can reach the pedals without my stomach bumping into the steering wheel these days. The last thing that road needs is an exhausted pregnant woman with pregnancy-induced t-rex arms tailgating the slow pokes and passing the drunk drivers.

It was a quiet little day and I am quite thankful for my family and the time we get to relax and enjoy each other.