where the magic happens

When you have a family who loves to party (read: drink) as much as mine, Thanksgiving requires a bit of stamina. We arrive in town on Wednesday and had barely put our bags down as cold drinks are thrust into our empty hands. I love this kind of welcome. We chat for a bit but then get down to business: where are we going to dinner? Joe T. Garcia’s (Joe T’s to the locals) of course – the coolest patio in Fort Worth.

I’m not gonna lie. My family kind of has the hook up all over Fort Worth. I’m also not going to lie when I tell you I milk it for all it’s worth. We call Joe’s to let them know we’re coming. Then we march past the 2 hour waiting line straight to our table for 12, as people hiss and sneer in our general direction. Peasants.

Oh sweet margaritaville! That’s all I’m gonna say about that.

Thanksgiving day started early and ended late. I was lucky enough that one of my dearest friends flew down from NYC to be with us, as did one of Austin’s friends from Arizona – this being round 2 for him. The fella brought his kids, and with the usual influx of friends and family it was quite a full house. A full house with AMAZING food.

We rounded out the holiday on Saturday with a huge breakfast and bloody Mary’s at my aunt and uncle’s house. It’s a good way to start the 4 hour ride home.

I am SO thankful that this holiday brings together friends AND family under one roof to celebrate life and happiness. It’s always such a beautiful day. Something always happens when you have that many people under one roof and a bar that flows like David Hasselhoff’s liquor cabinet. But, no surgeries this year, or drunken relatives hitting the neighbor’s cars as they leave. So I guess it was a bit of a let down…

my adorable grandparents

half of the diners