Wednesday morning around 8AM the phone rings. Its my Mom. She is not feeling well and did not want to expose my grandmother and her brother's father-in-law to whatever it was that she was experiencing. Could we hold Thanksgiving at our house? Of course, I said. Thankfully, my parents (with some help from my sister) were still planning to do the bird, potatoes, and stuffing, as they would've done if were at my parents. Everyone else was bringing a vegetable, salad, or dessert. We were still slated to do our sweet potato casserole (tried an awesome new recipe this year), but otherwise, we didn't have to do much, just provide a place to be Thankful together. Well, and we bought plenty of wine and liquor in case any of the less Thankful had to be coerced into conformity. The day went off without a hitch, except that my Mom and Dad weren't here. But, as it turns out, my mother's stomach ailment was appendicitis. The offending organ was removed on Turkey day -- perhaps some non-coincidental act of retribution by a malevolent turkey deity somewhere -- and they had her up and walking that day. She was released from the hospital the next. LuLu's nose running like Niagara Falls and the fear of my mom coughing and sneezing with still healing stomach muscle incisions prevented a visit that weekend. While everyone had a great time, and M and I have thought about the days when we'd host Thanksgiving, I've not yet given my mom a hard time for ducking out of Thanksgiving duties, but at least next year, she'll have to come up with something more creative. Last I heard, you only get one appendix.
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