This year my parents got to pick where Thanksgiving dinner would be. They chose a legendary spot, the Foxfire in Anaheim. The place is not legendary for things that 60 + year old parents think it is legendary for, though.

I’ve tried to put it in my own words, how to characterize this place and its reputation. On the weekends it becomes a club where the cougars feed like there’s no age limit for miniskirts and leopard print. Not only that, but it is a hotbed of drunken, elderly rump shaking.

Here, read the Yelp reviews for yourself.

And then there was the fact that my dad took the old Saturn in this week to get it repaired and drove home in a brand new car. My mom wasn’t sure who pulled up to the house or what they wanted until his impulse purchasing head peeked out of the driver’s side window.

So really, a much more normal Thanksgiving than years past.