We went to SweetPea's grandparents and cooked dinner. We got started a little later than I wanted to, and that last minute crush of everything wrapping up at the same time got a little crazy. But that's ok and normal and no big deal. The potatoes were a little bland, but her grandpa can't have the salt and it's ok because there was gravy. Even for
We got things cleaned up and put away and I had a little nap and then we had pie.
At one point, SweetPea said it was the best Thanksgiving ever and cried on my shoulder.
Now we're home and I'm sleepy as hell and I've already had some leftover tofurkey which is always the best part of the day.
I think I'm going to try to round up Neighbor for shots of Amarula and a smoke. Or, hell, maybe some Disaronno. I think that's more grammy's style.
I hope everyone's day was fantastic, and that somebody proclaimed it the best ever, that nobody cried for the wrong reasons, and that you have someone who thinks you look hot while mashing taters the old fashioned way.