In honor of Thanksgiving, I feel like I should post a recipe, offer some helpful advice, maybe pass along a few of my savvy hostess tips. Lucky for you I am working on impulse control.
I have been asked not to cook today; apparently, certain members of my family are apprehensive about having Typhoid Mary at the helm of the turkey day ship (wussies). Instead, I will be reclining in my Barcalounger at the new digs with the top button of my jeans unfastened, intermittently snoring and scratching in front of the TV.
I hope your day is swell. If you are still stuck at the kids table—better luck next year!
P.S.—In case family tradition requires you to balance a spoon on the end of your nose while humming your favorite Elvis tune in order to have first dibs on the wishbone. Fog it up first. Trust me.