I discovered something Thanksgiving day.  I totally, absolutely, undoubtedly am the worst washer player.  Ever.  I found myself comforted somewhat by the fact I was playing with my brother and sister who were almost as bad.  However, I was the lone player who didn’t make a single point the entire game.  I managed to hit the board occasionally but my little metal washer simply bounced off and rolled away in the grass that once was my grandparents orchard.  Oh well.  I had fun!  Chickens aren’t supposed to play washers anyway and I never succeeded at any game where throwing, running or catching was required.

I read REALLY well though!

The rest of the day was filled with the scent of yeast rolls baking and dressing cooling on the table, hints of butter and sage floating through the house and wafting out the door.  The sounds of laughter and easy conversations teased my ears, reminding me of all Thanksgivings past, celebrated in the same house with the same faces year-after-year.  I love my family.

And they love me back.  Even though I stink at washers, they still play with me, and isn’t that what family is all about?

And here is (most of) my family, we take a lot of pictures.  Its an affliction we all share.

Glad you got to meet my family.

Have a great weekend all!


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