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Dear Family and Friends,

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 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 brother 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.