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Thanksgiving at Fripp Island, SC, a houseful of friends. We brought the turkeys and left one of them in a soft-side zippered cooler on the screened porch to begin thawing overnight. Were awakened in the wee hours by screeching and caterwauling. A pair of raccoons had entered the porch, unzipped the cooler and had begun tearing into the turkey. One got greedy, and their fighting woke us up. Being exhausted, we simply wrapped the partially shredded turkey in plastic grocery bags and put it in the refrigerator to deal with in the morning. Unfortunately, by the time we woke up, another friend had risen early, seen the bagged turkey, and placed it in the sink to thaw properly. She returned after an hour to check on it, only to find a sink full of pink water and floating shreds of skin. Horrified, she rounded up the rest of the group to speculate on what in the WORLD might have happened to the turkey. They all knew we had been having trouble with my husband's middle-school-aged sons "acting out" in all kinds of unpleasant ways, and until we joined the party to tell the REAL story, my friends were convinced that the kids had finally gone too far. Fortunately, we had perfect little muddy raccoon pawprints on the top of the cooler to support our tale, and we laughed about the "Cujo Turkey" for many years to come!

Late to the party on this one, but here goes... about six years ago, my mom's new boyfriend came to our family Thanksgiving for the first time with his nine-year-old son. My family is fairly uptight, so this guy had everyone's eyebrows raised with his motorcycle-ridin', rock'n'rollin' ways. We're at the feast, the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are tolerating him, and our quietly formal Thanksgiving meal is proceeding, when all of a sudden during a lull in conversation the nine-year-old goes "Hey, Daddy, remember when I found cocaine on your dresser?" Completely out of the blue. Ensue awkward silence. The boyfriend finally musters a halfhearted, "I don't know what you're talking about, son," to which the kid responds, "Yes, you do! It was in a little baggie and you said it was Uncle Dave's." The boyfriend was speechless. The entire table cracked up, and someone changed the subject, but it was never forgotten.

That was not the last Thanksgiving we had with them, but unfortunately, nobody ever told any more drug stories.

I had made what seemed like a ton of turkey soup with the turkey carcass (prob 2-3 gallons in actuality). I was so proud of myself because I had started it immediately after dinner so by 9:00 pm it was ready to go into the fridge. The next time we opened the fridge to put something away, the whole stock pot came sliding out onto the floor. Gallons of turkey soup everywhere...especially nice to clean out from under the fridge. So NOT funny at the time, but now is a funny story. I didn't make turkey soup for several years after.

In the 90's my mom was wearing an angora sweater for Thanksgiving - you know the ones with little pieces of fur sticking out everywhere? While serving dinner, she leaned a little too close to the candle and lit her sweater on fire. Luckily, it burned quickly around the little tendrils, and not the sweater itself. Of course my uncle jumped up to help "put out the fire" but it really looked like he was copping a feel.

Traditionally, my extended family, 20-25 ppl, come to my home every Thanksgiving for a home-cooked turkey dinner with all the trimmings. I usually prepare ten to 12 dishes, all from scratch, including desserts.

Last year, as we all sat down at the dinner table to share the meal, my nephew's wife (who's own expertise at preparing a meal is pretty much limited to calling for takeout pizza), reached into her handbag, pulled out an Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich on Wonder Bread, and handed it to her 6-year-old son, as his Thanksgiving dinner.
I was a little insulted at the time, but now I laugh about it.

My funniest Thansgiving moment was the first Thanksgiving that my parents went away to visit family and my brother, his girlfriend and I had to make dinner ourselves. The girlfriend was determined to make her dad's famous stuffing and misread the recipe, adding many tablespoons of Bell's seasoning instead of a couple of teaspoons. Yikes!!!!!
Fortunately for all of us by the time the entire meal was finally cooked we were all too tired to eat so we put it all away and went back to bed.

While in desert storm I was a last minute adition to the KP roster. Pissed off I went and reported to the Mess Sergeant, since I was late it was determined that I would be doing pots and pans. I got even more peeved. So, dinner time came and I was dolling out peas to the masses when my buddies came up and and gave me the old wish you could join us for dinner routine with a smile. To top all of that off by the time we got to eat there was nothing left but Turkey rations out of the metal trays. After I finished I left to go back to my tent and sulk.Thats when the first soldier got sick. You see the real turkeys had thawed and refroze sometime during the trip and the turkeys became botchulism bombs. The entire camp(with the exception of the KP's who ate T rats) got sick. I couldnt help but feel like the kid on standby me who started the barfarama. That is what I call thanksgiving justice. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

@lemons: Very well said.

@ButterButter: I can't help you with the origin of the St. Paul sandwich but thanks for reminding me of it! It's been years, even decades, since I had one but it was my "sober up so I could drive home" late-night snack many times. I usually got mine on the South Side and it was on white bread, not a bun.

In college I invited a Puerto Rican friend home for Thanksgiving and my dad invited a new colleague and his family who had just moved to the US from China. Everyone spoke English to some degree but since accents were strong there were some awkward moments where it was obvious no one had any idea what was being said.
Also, my father decided that this was the year to introduce deep-frying a turkey into our repertoire. He invited all our guests outside to witness the immersion of the fowl into his gigantic fryer. He also forgot to heed the warning to DRY the turkey well before dropping it into the grease - hot oil exploded a few feet into the air with a BOOM and our guests were horrified at the strange and dangerous customs of their new country. At least no one got hurt. :)

Funny or gross you decide.....we were all chowing down at Thanksgiving 2001, amazed at how wonderful my aunt's meat sauce was as her cooking skills leave something to be desired....We were commenting how delicious it was and asked if she used a recipe--she said, "heavens no! Uncle Jimmy made the sauce." In unison, we all dropped our forks...You see, Uncle Jimmy died in 1981 and his sauce with in the freezer all those years!.....No one was seriously sick but there were those with some degree of stomach upset! (maybe mind over matter)

my grandparents came over and my grandfather started making comments that the mashed potatoes better be hot this year. being the smartass that i am i told him if he was going to complain, he should just put his coat back on and go home. well they did and my mother was horrified and extremely upset with me. i thought it was funny and still do. aahhhh memories.

I also love the pastry snails made from leftover dough, butter, sugar and cinnamon. I like crust, but not the bottom soggy crust. Usually pick around it and leave it behind. Lately I've been making little tarts and putting just a dab of whatever homemade jam or jelly is around. I use less sugar so the fruit flavor is more pronounced. Good way to clean the refrigerator out of too many jars with just a dab in the bottom. I've also used guava paste and quince paste with good results. I have silicone tart pans and a tart tamper gadget that takes the work out of pressing the dough in place. It really works! Can't live without it now. Here is my dough recipe. It exactly fits two 12 cup tart pans and I whip it up in the food processor. A fast sugar pastry fix!
JAM TARTS
6 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup sugar
1 egg yolk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup unbleached flour
1/4 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
Cream butter and sugar. Add yolk and vanilla. Mix well.
Add flours and salt. Mix just to combine.
Pinch off about a tablespoon of dough, roll gently into a ball and press into tart mold.
Fill with a teaspoon of jam or jelly.
Bake at 350 for 9 to 11 minutes. The edges should be very lightly golden.
Cool on rack. Make a pot of tea and try not to devour them all.