We usually spend Thanksgiving at a good friends home. She loves to cook and is a great chef so she invites folks like us whose families live far away. It generally looks like this:
Last Thanksgiving, that is November 2008, Doug went to Italy to meet our furniture. It had a leisurely trip across the Atlantic but had the bad taste to land just when my family was due for T day.
I spent a good part of the day (besides trying to remember how to cook the dinner) on-line with Doug. He arrived safely (after I tracked his plane across the Atlantic) at our house in Santa Domenica. It was cold. He couldn't keep the gas stove going. He locked himself out late at night and was saved by the neighbors. The next day the furniture came and it started to rain. Did I mention the steps? Some very intrepid Italian movers were carrying our American furniture down 58 steps to our house:
And this is how the house looked when we returned in December to move in for Christmas:
We had paid for unpacking but there was no way that Doug was going to mention this to the damp guys who were already late for their next job. According to Doug, they were good enough sports.
This year we had to turn down my family for a "last" Thanksgiving before our move to Italy. It was a hard decision. I understand why they wouldn't want to come way out here again for a dinner cooked by a distracted and rusty cook. So it's off to our friends house for the last one with them.