Okay. It’s over but for the remains. No matter how little I try to eat each year, I waddle away from the table. I always swear that I’ll never do that again, knowing full well that in a year I’ll do the same damn thing. This year I felt particular pangs of conscience. There are, again, too many starving people in the world for me to eat the Thanksgiving meal without wondering how many our feast could feed.

Each year the turkey that we purchase gets smaller and smaller. No more the 25 lbs. behemoths. I’ve definitely said good bye Toms and hello to Hens. Yet, there’s still too much. The spirits don’t eat as much as I think they will. They still hover about me as I fix the meal. They critique and bemoan. They harp on and inveigle. Thanksgiving just wouldn’t be the same without them. Though I’d be willing to give it a go.

This year I forgot what I consider to be an essential part of my stuffing recipe. I wasn’t until after I had the stuffing in its little stocking inside the bird that I remembered. Turning to the HB, I said quietly, “I forgot the sweet Italians.” He looked at me and took a beat. “Do you want to go get them?” He loves the sweet Italians. “It’s too late,” I muttered. “It’ll be fine,” he said in that reassuring way of his.

He was right. No one noticed. Everyone praised the stuffing. I don’t know whether that should make me happy or not. Was it still good? Did they truly not notice the difference? The spirits knew. They hovered over me berating me for my sloppy planning. “Forgot the sweet Italians?” “Can’t you get anything right?” “You probably didn’t put that meat thermometer properly.” “You can’t have cooked it enough.”

Everything finished on time. Perfect timing is essential with the Thanksgiving meal. When I sat down, I chugged the Chianti and proceeded to get very flush. No matter how pressure-free I try to make the meal, it always gets to me. Fortunately, everything turned out perfect. Cranberry sauce not too sweet, check. Gravy just right no lumps, check. Stuffing utter perfection, check. Candied yams smooth as silk, check. Mashed potatoes creamy and buttery, check. Peas a little overcooked for me, but no complaints, check. Rolls delicious and crunchy, check. Pumpkin crumble yummy, check. Turkey tender and juicy, cooked to perfection, check. No complaints, only praise. I can add another notch to the handle of my carving knife.