Thanksgiving Garrettisms

Last night, after my nephew Brandon gave a really nice prayer of thanks, the family tucked into Thanksgiving dinner with great gusto. After a few minutes of quiet conversation, it was decided that we should all share a couple of reasons why we are thankful this year. Just about everyone was thankful for good health, the presence of family, and their financial security in these times of crisis. A couple of us mentioned the new incoming Obama administration. When Steve’s brother-in-law Tim’s turn came around, he mentioned how grateful he was to have his beautiful wife Theresa by his side (hi Theresa!!) to which all but Garrett responded with “awwww”. Why not Garrett? Because he was too busy advising Tim, “get a room!” Earlier in the evening while Garrett was watching Planet Earth on the new wide screen TV, Garrett excited pointed out the baboons to Theresa. Pretending to mishear what he had said, she questioned, "The monkey's have boobs?" To which Garrett responded, "I don't think that's appropriate for an almost 9-year old".

Every year at Thanksgiving, Steve’s father, Dan, brings out one of his favorite (but somewhat ill-fated) cooking tools, the automatic whipped cream maker. This fancy device was given to him a few years ago at Christmas. Heavy cream is poured in, and the simple press of a lever causes perfectly whipped cream to shoot with considerable force from the dispenser. The Christmas he got this gift, Dan proceeded straight to the kitchen dizzy with excitement, rooted around, and was pleased to find a small container of heavy cream at the back of the fridge. Into the whipped cream maker it went and in a nick of time, he was ready to dispense. Remember the “considerable force” phrase I used, above? Well, take a moment to imagine sour whipped cream shooting across the kitchen. The one trick to the fancy dispenser is that its nozzle must be angled down at 45 degrees to the surface upon which the cream is being placed. Dan found, that to do otherwise, results in a large area in front of the user being painted with the contents. In this particular case, it was rotten whipping cream.

After dinner, it was time for pie, and out came the fancy cream whipper/dispenser. We all sat down an enthusiastically enjoyed the apple and pumpkin pies Theresa had baked. The boys’ pies each had a generous dollop of cream. Garrett, upon sitting down, had pledged that his first slice of apple pie was just the first of five he planned to consume. True, as always, to his word Garrett asked for a slice of pumpkin pie next. Having watched Weston shoot a little mountain of whipped cream on his second piece of pie, Garrett insisted he be given a chance to serve his own cream too. Steve wisely suggested that this would only happen if he, Steve, acted as a spotter. His father sat across the table from Garrett, and warned Garrett that the nozzle needed to be pointed straight down. As the words left his mouth, with Steve’s helping hand, Garrett pressed the lever. Whipped cream exited the dispenser with such force that the back crust of the pie was blown off the pie and onto the table, and Steve’s father found himself, once again the victim of his cooking device, wearing a large amount of whipping cream. This year, I am thankful that my father-in-law has a good sense of humor.

And finally, in totally unrelated news, but still needing mention because of its awesomeness, the Macy's Thanksgiving parade featured a live Rickroll!