Turkey Brine, Out of of Time, Things that Rhyme

I have no time to accomplish the long list of Turkey Day requirements, which generally means I would be sweating and panting and crying and begging my husband to come home early from work so I could bury myself in flour and floor wax.  Not this year.  This year, my kid's sleeping peacefully in her crib and I am ordering her Christmas cards with her pretty face all over them instead of prepping celery and onions for stuffing or peeling the 8 pounds of sweet potatoes going into the Bourbon Sweet Potato Casserole Rich requests every year.  And I don't care.  I am not cleaning my bathroom or double checking Gourmet's List of, "Are you on Schedule for the Big Day?" because it will only give me heartburn and that will not do when there is pie to be eaten in 48 hours.  If I can make it in time.  You know why?

I've waited my whole life to own my own house, with my own dining room table, to host my own Thanksgiving for the second year in a row.  I love that I never really know who's coming until the night before when our phone begins to ring.....

"Hey- can we come tomorrow? We'll bring the beer!"

"My flight home was cancelled.....got an extra seat?"

"My Mom won't let me back in the house and I'm hungry...."

"Are you making that sweet potato thing? Can I come for dessert?"

And so it continues until the morning of when we've put out, and taken away about 5 chairs due to additions and cancellations.  That's what the holidays are all about at the Shannons.  We want to make sure we have a place for people who don't have a place to go.  A turkey big enough to feed our neighborhood.  An excessive amount of laughter and introductions and, "pass the cranberry sauce please- the canned one, not the homemade".  We like our home to be the place where everyone feels like they're going home for the holidays.

If I ever get my butt in the kitchen and make the stuffing.  Ah, well.  There's something homey in that too, I guess.