Sunday, November 23, 2014

Turkey and Stuff


I don't think the day could have been any better for Willie.  

The SHS assistant coach wakes up, still floating from the girls' basketball team's huge upset win the night before at Les Rogers' gymnasium.  

He then learns that he gets to go his first-ever ZAGS game in The Kennel with his dad.  

The only hoops he has to go through on this more-than-magical Saturday for a lifelong basketball aficionado are Mom's picture ops and the request that he wear her ZAGS cap at the game.

He's already proudly wearing his "Sandpoint Basketball" black fleece jacket, especially proud after the previous night's victory.  

Mom's hat doesn't look too bad, and when photo op time comes with Mom standing on one of the dining room chairs pointing her camera, Dad proudly points at the commemorative ZAGS photo, taken on Senior Day in the Kennel a couple of years ago when the ZAGS ranked No. 1 in the nation.

Soon Dad and "Big Man,"  as Bill has called Willie since birth, head out the door, on their way to Spokane. 

Their itinerary:  a stop at Cabela's, then a stop at Costco, then on to Gonzaga University. 

Dad reports this morning that once Willie found his seat, he stayed there, taking it all in until the game ended.  

I tell Bill that I know he did stand up once cuz his adoring family ('cept Debbie who was volunteering at last night's Holly Eve) spotted him and Bill on the TV set.  

During that moment at halftime, when Swiss Miss couldn't pick him out, Laurie ran to the screen and pointed him out----the Big Man with black fleece and the bright red ZAGS hat kinda stood out. 

Bill and Willie took in every nuance of another fabulous ZAGS victory and then topped off the day with the grand finale----a trip to DICK's Restaurant for dinner and people watching. 

Doesn't get any better than that for a guy like our Willie. 

Today we're all looking ahead to the next big thing (besides the ZAGS game against Georgia on Wednesday).  

Turkey day is getting closer, and suddenly, it seems,  there's much to do in a hurry. 

The Lovestead turkey, a 17-pound Butterball, sits out in the ice chest waiting for Tuesday and the big thaw. 

Speaking of turkeys, the other day just before driving on North Kootenai Road through "Betty Berger Pass,"  as Bill calls it, I passed by Betty Berger's place in time to see a group of plump turkeys, walking the fenceline, accompanied by a big Whitetail buck.

It seemed like a friendly, tightly knit group----that buck and those birds----without a care in the world.  

I'm sure they know that life is pretty safe if you stay on Betty Berger's land where there's pickin' aplenty in the big fields and a nice orchard where you can eat apples 'til your belly hurts and then bed down---maybe even with your turkey friends. 

Our Butterball probably never enjoyed a "free-range" life quite like that, but I'm gonna drop that thought, lest I get too sentimental when Butterball comes inside for the big thaw.  

Gotta detach oneself before all the thawing and grabbing those giblet and stuffing that bird with Stove Top and cooking it for several hours and then carving it up and then eating it. 

Today I'm gonna do my dress rehearsal for the big feast, making sure that I have enough table and chair space and table cloths and napkins and glasses and all that stuff which goes together to create an elegant setting.

Not that it will be too elegant at my house, but I can assure you that this is the one day of the year when we don't plop on our couches with our plates and drinks and watch a little TV while dining.  Anything beyond that is elegant at the Lovestead. 

We'll do up the formalities as best we know how, and the big dinner should be fun for Swiss Miss. This will be our first Thanksgiving, celebrating with a guest from another land.  So, we'll try to exhibit our best behavior.  

Yup, it's a busy week ahead, and kinda fun too, doing all the planning and hoping that everything falls into place for another year of gorging ourselves on good food, then collapsing on the couch waiting for it to digest in preparation for dessert topped off with the perennial question of why we ate so much. 

Happy Sunday. 

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