We have a tradition around our house. Each Thanksgiving as we sit around the table admiring the bountiful feast of which we are about to partake; we go around the table and each person states one thing for which we are thankful.

After everyone has had a turn, we say grace and thank our Heavenly Father for all that he has provided for us in our lives. It is a small and simple tradition but one that has become very important in our family.

It provides each person an opportunity to look back over all that they have been given. It humbling to think of all the greatness we are given each and every day.

It is not just the good things for which we should be grateful but also for the challenges and trials, which we face in our lives. Through these trials we learn much about our character and our strength.

At the time it is hard to imagine being grateful for the tough times and challenges but if we are able to endure them and overcome them we find we have strength we never knew we had.

For each depth I have had to endure in my life I have found there is a peak that is as high or higher that I have experienced. While my life has been like a roller coaster with the valleys and the hills of bad and good I have thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

There have been times when the dips and drops have turned my stomach and I just knew I was going to lose it once the ride was finished. But at the same time I have felt the excitement that the rapid ascent after a fall has brought.

Overall my life has definitely been an E-Ticket ride and one I wouldn’t change for anything in the world. So I am looking forward to sitting down with my family for Thanksgiving later today and expressing my gratitude for all I have been given.

It will also give me an opportunity to tell each of these people how much they have meant to me and how much I appreciate them being on this rollercoaster with me.

The people you meet and the experiences you share are what I am most grateful for. Well that and season tickets to the Arizona Diamondbacks.

Growing up in Idaho one of the things we kids always looked forward to was going to grandma’s house for Thanksgiving. She lived in a small house with my grandpa. Small was the operative word since the entire house was the size of a garage.

Somehow my grandmother was able to comfortably fit all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins in this house on Thanksgiving. As a small child it seemed comfortable. When I visit now I have to wonder if it was just my imagination that there were really that many people in this small house.

Not only did grandma have all the people there for dinner but she also prepared all of the food herself. Since I was old enough to remember my grandmother was always cooking not just for her family but for everyone.

I spent a lot of time with my grandparents spending the summer with them as they travelled and camping with them every chance I could get. Every morning I remember my grandmother in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

First my grandfather would eat then there seemed to be a never ending stream of family, friends, and people we just met that would come through her kitchen. Grandma happily stood at the stove serving food to everyone.

On Thanksgiving it was extra special. We would have the traditional turkey of course but there would be tables and tables of side dishes. Everyone had their favorite and grandma made sure she made it on this special day.

Besides all of the entrees and other side dishes my grandmother also made desserts. Her specialty was pie. My grandmother made mountains and mountains of pies. There were pies of every shape and kind that would line the counter waiting to be served after the meal.

From a very early age I gained an appreciation of grandma’s pies. They all tasted so wonderfully. My mother is a fantastic cook but the one thing she did not make was pie. Mom was always frustrated by the pie dough and after repeated failures she gave up.

This meant that the only time we ever got pie was at Thanksgiving when we went to grandmas. It became an extra special treat. My grandmother went to great lengths to make her pies and was very proud of how they always turned out.

One Thanksgiving when I was probably four years old, we went to grandma’s house as we always did. While the women were busy around the kitchen the kids were left to play. I would wander in and out of the kitchen and usually was rewarded with an olive for my finger just to get out of the way.

That was all well and good but what I really wanted was some of grandma’s pie. It was well before dinner though so the pie was off limits. I was not to be deterred; I would sneak into the kitchen and just take a small chunk of the outside crust.

The crust was always my favorite. It was so flaky and rich and tasted just perfect especially with a light dusting of cinnamon and sugar. That little chunk of piecrust was awesome and I just had to have another.

I was careful not to take from the same pie so as not to raise suspicion. I would take a small nibble then scamper out of the kitchen. It seemed like the perfect crime.

My problem was, at four I was very bad at time management. My trips in to sneak a sampling of pie crust were too frequent so that by the time dinner arrived I had actually removed all the outside pie crusts on every one of grandma’s pies.

When the time came to serve the pies, there came a horrified scream from the kitchen, “What happened to my pies!” The problem with being the oldest grandchild is the other kids were too small to successfully blame.

After her initial shock grandma laughed and it became a tradition that she would serve one pie without an outside edge of crust. I promised to leave the other piecrusts alone and she allowed me to pick at one.

Soon it became a tradition and grandma would bake an extra piecrust just for me. It became a special bond that we have shared my whole life.

When Trina and I got married she volunteered to make a pie for Thanksgiving. Trina is the only woman I have ever met who could bake pies as good as my grandmothers. I eagerly awaited the pie.

Trina made an amazing lemon meringue pie. Shortly before we left to attend Thanksgiving dinner I did what I do every Thanksgiving; I ate the outside ring of crust off the pie. Unfortunately no one warned Trina of this tradition and as she went to pack the pie she was horrified to see all the crust gone.

She immediately became emotional telling me I ruined Thanksgiving. She couldn’t possibly serve a pie with all the outside crust gone. Somehow I talked her into taking the pie anyway assuring her it was completely normal.

That afternoon as she brought out her pie sans crust apologizing; my grandmother took her aside and told the stories of how she never was able to serve a pie with crust because of me. They laughed and developed a bond that will never be broken.

So today as Trina prepares for Thanksgiving tomorrow she is in the kitchen baking pies. In the oven there are two piecrusts. One will become a pie that will be served to family and friends. The other will receive a nice dusting of cinnamon and sugar and will be reserved.

I’ll be allowed to nibble on that second piecrust and be reminded of the two women in my life that have made such a profound impact. Piecrust never tasted so good as when it is made with love.

It must be Thanksgiving, there’s a turkey in my pool. I never get tired of that line nor do I get tired of the confused look that accompanies that comment. I probably need to explain.

My family is addicted to The Food Network. Alton Brown, Bobby Flay, and Paula Dean are all deities around our house. There is probably not a day go by that The Food Network is tuned in. It is not just my wife who is addicted; all of the kids also have their favorite personalities and shows.

It’s not just the shows and the personalities; we have also collected a fair amount of recipes that have become staples on our dinner table. One of the most popular has been the turkey recipe that we found from Good Eats.

Alton Brown is a big proponent of brining the turkey to maintain moisture and give it flavor. The recipe is fairly simple with vegetable stock, herbs, spices, and of course lots of Kosher salt.

These ingredients are combined and simmered then chilled. The turkey is placed in a container along with the brine, ice, and water where it sits overnight before cooking.

Because of the size of the turkey and the brine solution it requires us to use a 5-gallon container. The problem is that we have nowhere to store the turkey while it is soaking.

Our refrigerator is not large enough to keep the bird and the container but it must be kept cool. Well I’m a problem solver so I found a unique solution.

By November our swimming pool water hovers around 45 degrees which coincidentally is the same temperature to maintain a chilled bird. So after putting the bird in the container and starting it to soak we place the 5-gallon bucket in the swimming pool with a brick on the top.

The bird stays in the pool overnight. Sometime in the middle of the night I will get up and flip the bird (yet another great phrase that Trina freaks out about when I use it). The next day we’ll remove the turkey from the brine and let it sit before starting it roasting.

I swear, stories like this are just too crazy to make these things up. So the next time you think you are strange and unusual Thanksgiving traditions ask yourself, do you have a Jewish turkey floating in your swimming bird?

Thanksgiving is always a time that brings back a lot of memories. Growing up in rural Idaho we would go to my grandparents house every year. All of my aunts and uncles who lived in the area would be there.

We would all gather around the table for dinner awaiting the arrival of the turkey. It would be brought in and presented amid gasps and excitement. My grandfather would then take the knife and carve up the bird taking a nibble or two along the way.

After we got married, Trina and I continued the tradition going to either my parents or her parents for Thanksgiving dinner depending on who’s turn it was on the annual holiday calendar. We were married several years before we actually were able to host the dinner at our house.

I remember the first year when we finally decided that we would invite others over for Thanksgiving. I had no idea what a stressful event that would be. For so long we were in charge of just a side dish I did not comprehend what it meant to actually be in charge of the whole meal.

There were seating arrangements to finalize and assignments to hand out so that everyone felt included yet no one felt overwhelmed. Then of course there was the turkey. For the first time we were responsible for the bird and neither Trina or I had any idea what we were doing.

The first step was to actually procure the turkey. We went to the grocery store and looked at the bins of turkeys in the meat department. Neither of us had any idea what the difference was between free-range turkey, fresh turkey, or organic.

As we stood there trying to make some sort of sense out of the information on each package, we were approached by what I thought was a fellow shopper. He came up and introduced himself.

He was not a shopper but rather he was a disc jockey at a local radio station. He asked if we were there to buy a Thanksgiving turkey. I silently wondered if he was naturally this stupid or if we just caught him on a bad day.

It seemed pretty obvious we were there for turkey. I initially considered telling him no, we were part of the Food and Drug Administration testing the literacy standards of turkey packaging but I didn’t for fear that he might actually believe me.

We nodded that we were indeed there for the turkey. He then asked if we would be interested in trying to win a free turkey. Well who wouldn’t be interested in a free turkey?

He looked at both of us then grabbed Trina by the arm. Thinking back I probably should have been insulted that he chose my wife over me but at the time I was too busy thinking of getting a free turkey.

The disc jockey took us over to an aisle in a different part of the store. There we stood on one end. At the other end of the aisle were ten bowling pins set up. The disc jockey grabbed his microphone and announced that he had a contestant.

After a brief introduction he explained that Trina would be given two chances to knock down the bowling pins at the other end of the aisle. Both Trina and I looked around for the bowling ball when all of a sudden the disc jockey handed Trina a 16 pound frozen turkey.

I am not sure which of us was more in shock. Trina though seized the moment and grabbed the turkey and hurled it down the aisle.

The turkey skidded down the aisle like a curling stone. For a brief second I thought about grabbing the janitor’s broom who was watching the event and sweeping a straight line for the turkey.

Before I could do that though the frozen bird hit the bowling pins scattering them in every direction. The ten pin actually took out a Family Size box of Cheerios. In one fell swoop all of the pins came to a stop as the frozen turkey spun in place.

The crowd went wild while the disc jockey stood speechless. Finally he said, “We have been doing this spot for three years an no one has ever gotten a strike with a turkey.”

In the end we walked out of the store with a free 18-pound frozen turkey and a story that would be retold for the rest of our lives. Now every year when we set out for the store to get the frozen Turkey the kids have to endure the tale of when mom bowled her way into Thanksgiving.

I will freely admit, my wife Trina and I are list-aholics. It seems like each of us has a list for just about everything. There is a Christmas list that we follow religiously. There is the inescapable honey-do list that Trina has for me each baseball off-season. There is even a list for us to get paper and pens to make more lists.

There is not one aspect of our lives that there doesn’t seem to be a list somewhere. The problem is, we make these lists then for one reason or another the list gets misplaced. I think the lost lists are just a coincidence but Trina believes in some list conspiracy theory.

I once suggested perhaps she should make a list of the different conspiracy theories she had for the disappearing lists. That did not go over very well and I soon found myself on Trina’s list and that was not a good thing at all.

Today the subject of the list was shopping. Not just any shopping though this was the Thanksgiving shopping list. This piece of paper listed every ingredient necessary to concoct the perfect Thanksgiving dinner.

Reading over the shopping list was like listing the credits to The Food Network. There were tasty morsels on every line. I swear I gained seven pounds just reading the list.

It is not merely having a list that I find somewhat humorous. It is the fact that Trina creates the list and categorizes it by store and within each store the items are listed by aisle number beginning from right to left.

Trina has grocery shopping down to a science. There are absolutely no wasted steps. You visit each aisle one and only one time. You begin at one end of the store and push your cart in a zig zag pattern from front to back. At the end everything on the list for that store should be in your cart.

It amazes me how organized Trina is when it comes to lists and especially shopping yet how unorganized the rest of her life can be. The woman cannot remember to take her cell phone with her when she leaves the house yet she has the store layout of four grocery store chains committed to memory.

I once suggested she was like the Rainman of grocery shopping. My arm still hurts when the barometric pressure changes from where she hit me. I meant it in the most positive way but I guess being compared to a guy that buys his underwear at K-Mart was not as big a complement as I thought.

So for now I watch from afar as she makes the lists and collects her bounty knowing there is no one on the planet capable of making a list quite like my wife.