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A
Change in Thanksgiving Plans
Martha
Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. I'm telling
you in advance, so don't act surprised.
Since
Ms. Stewart won't be coming, I've made a few small changes: Our
sidewalk will not be lined with homemade, paper bag luminaries. After
a trial run, it was decided that no matter how cleverly done, rows of
flaming lunch sacks do not have the desired welcoming effect.
Once
inside, our guests will note that the entry hall is not decorated
with the swags of Indian corn and fall foliage I had planned to make.
Instead, I've gotten the kids involved in the decorating by having
them track in colorful autumn leaves from the front yard. The mud was
their idea.
The
dining table will not be covered with expensive linens, fancy china,
or crystal goblets. If possible, we will use dishes that match and
everyone will get a fork. Since this IS Thanksgiving, we will refrain
from using the plastic Peter Rabbit plate and the Santa napkins from
last Christmas.
Our
centerpiece will not be the tower of fresh fruit and flowers that I
promised. Instead we will be displaying a hedgehog-like decoration hand-crafted
from the finest construction paper. The artist assures me it is a turkey.
We
will be dining fashionably late. The children will entertain you
while you wait. I'm sure they will be happy to share every choice
comment I have made regarding Thanksgiving, pilgrims and the turkey
hotline. Please remember that most of these comments were made at
5:00 a.m. upon discovering that the turkey was still hard enough to
cut diamonds.
As
accompaniment to the children's recital, I will play a recording of
tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don't own a
recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds
suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them.
They are lying.
We
toyed with the idea of ringing a dainty silver bell to announce the
start of our feast. In the end, we chose to keep our traditional
method. We've also decided against a formal seating arrangement. When
the smoke alarm sounds, please gather around the table and sit where
you like. In the spirit of harmony, we will ask the children to sit
at a separate table. In a separate room. Next door.
Now,
I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in
front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be
happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be
carved in a private ceremony. I stress "private" meaning:
Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do
not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have
an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason
that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.
I
would like to take this opportunity to remind my young diners that
"passing the rolls" is not a football play. Nor is it a
request to bean your sister in the head with warm tasty bread. Oh,
and one reminder for the adults: For the duration of the meal, and
especially while in the presence of young diners, we will refer to
the giblet gravy by its lesser-known name: Cheese Sauce. If a young
diner questions you regarding the origins or type of Cheese Sauce,
plead ignorance. Cheese Sauce stains.
Before
I forget, there is one last change. Instead of offering a choice
between 12 different scrumptious desserts, we will be serving the
traditional pumpkin pie, garnished with whipped cream and small
fingerprints. You will still have a choice: take it or leave it.
No,
Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. She
probably won't come next year either.
I
am thankful.
Enjoy!
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