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Both my maternal and paternal grandfathers were avid hunters, meaning that growing up in Wisconsin, we never went to Grandma's house for Thanksgiving. The men (only men in those days) were always off hunting deer that day, which meant that a Thanksgiving feast at Grandma's was hit or miss (pun intended)thing and often did not involve turkey. Thanksgiving turkey feasts were something that townfolk like us did (my dad got a job in Madison in 1960, and left the farm). Anybody else have a similar experience?
Good Lord, you don't fry the squirrel. You eat its brains.
Squirrels? You wish. We need to find a way to really fatten the little rascals up, then maybe, to your delight. Till then, Watch the trees! Watch the trees!
I'll stick with the traditional fare, but have a good thanksgiving, everyone.
Enjoy the post-feast nap! Tryptophan for everyone!
The Thanksgiving squirrel used to be so dry we'd have to drown it in squism just so we could swallow it.
Know your Althouse pet peeves: Talking about tryptophan at Thanksgiving time.
Mmmm... That little fish looks tasty.
Good Lord, you don't fry the squirrel. You eat its brains.Sports Car Insurance Ratesnevada job list
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