But this year I am thinking about the time we stuffed and prepped a spectacular 28 pound turkey from the Lee Turkey farm.
There were a number of people in and out of the kitchen baking on the Wednesday, and someone (we will never know who) put the bottom oven rack in upside down.
So, the massive bird went in the oven around 3 am, and sometime around 5, the oven rack buckled and set the oven smoldering (fortunately, we never achieved full fire). There were sleeping people all over the house, including the living room floor, but we all slept on.
Except for Powzie, who galloped down the hall, jumped into bed with me, and began to smack me in the face.
She was not given to face pawing, (unless she was hoping to throw up a hairball on someone), so I kept trying to push her away. She kept coming back and smacking me until the smoke alarm went off, when she proceeded to glare at me like I was the most stupid human on the planet.
The kitchen, as you can imagine, was a mess, especially after the turkey and its pan were gently lifted out and salt was thrown on the oven to make sure no flame was live.
Fortunately, this was when Robin lived next door, so while team number one cleaned up the sticky mess, Lee Moyer - armed with my longest oven mitts - carried the 500 degree turkey bomb to Robin's, and it was set back to cook for several more hours.
We managed to get everything squared away before the arrival of Jim's parents, who liked to beat the traffic by arriving at our house around 4am (if my mom was riding with them, she would try to slow them down by trying to get them to stop at the diner for breakfast, but this only occasionally worked.) But no one got to go back to bed, so some of us began the after dinner tradition of napping much earlier than usual.
There must be pictures somewhere -- I'll have to give the old albums a poke.