Thanksgiving with the Lewis’s (mom’s side) has always been kind of a big deal. Over the years it has swollen into a 40-55 person soiree, and we’ve had to move locations in order to accommodate the masses coming for food and drink.
Things have changed over the years. No longer do the “kids” finish eating then run down the road to the local grocery store to play hide and seek. ‘Twas always such a thrill. We’ve since moved on to more adult activity, like drinking and dirty jokes. And since there are no babies, it has become a strictly adult atmosphere.
But one thing is always consistent – some sort of fiasco is guaranteed to take place. Whether it be the first drunkies to leave, roadies in hand, madly waving goodbye as they back into the neighbors Range Rover (happens almost every year), or some scandalous family member shocking the party with their antics, you can be sure something will happen.
Our day started out normally enough. Here’s Poppy carving one of the turkeys
And Austin (with Granny) with his mouth full of turkey as its being carved
It was cold in Fort Worth, but GORGEOUS. A perfect day for giving thanks.
But I’m not here to talk about the weather. The day goes like this: we eat around 1:30pm, and not long after, all the boring/socially awkward family members head out. You know who you are. With the duds gone, we break out more liquor, tell lascivious stories, and continue gorging ourselves beyond capacity. Sometimes dancing gets involved. Sometimes guns. After all, this is Texas.
A minor break to this debauchery was Austin’s impromptu surgery. Yes, surgery. Please see poop tooth below
But I’m not here to talk about his tooth. Rather, his breast. He noticed a mass under his nipple almost a year ago, and being a typical Parker male, did nothing about it since he believes himself invincible. It’s the Ironman Syndrome. My mother rounded up the doctors in the joint (there were quite a few) and had them take a look. The prognosis was it was best to just cut it out. Like, now.
As soon as it was decided, I ran back to the bar. I needed a refill if I was a) going to be watching surgery and b) going to be away from the bar for more than an hour. I went with him to the operating room (they didn’t let me watch – boo) but I was able to snap a few shots post-operation.
It only took about 45 minutes! We were back home in a jiffy, just in time for target practice. (kidding!)
Mysterious mass removed = Thanksgiving Success!