Jeff Blogs

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.

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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.

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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.

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