A Change In 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
comments 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.
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.
Happy Thanksgiving. . . from our house.
[ by: Barbara A. Tyler, Copyright © 2000 ( batyler65@earthlink.net ) -- from Barbara A. Tyler ]
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