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.
  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
AM 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.
  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.
  Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. She
probably won't come next year either.
  I am thankful.

  Source: "Today's Woman" magazine, Barbara A Tyler