No Martha Stewart Thanksgiving

I love having people in my home. But a domestic goddess, I am not. My style of entertaining tends toward the “Make yourself at home” kind. As in, “You’ll have to grab your own beverage from the fridge. Feel free to either drink it straight from the can or pour it into a plastic Rudy’s BBQ cup from the cupboard.”

I also love Thanksgiving. And so I used to make an effort toward fine dining and décor on this one special day. I would lay out beautiful table settings of china and crystal on crisp crème-colored linens, including real cloth napkins folded into interesting shapes and secured by silver napkin rings. But since we added three small kids to our family, I’ve reverted to my unsophisticated comfortable and inelegant practical ways. (And let’s be real: even before kids my cornbread dressing came from a box and my pie crusts were compliments of Pillsbury.)

So I’ve always appreciated this old email meme called “No Martha Stewart Thanksgiving”. I hope you enjoy it too. May your holiday be filled with joy and gratefulness!

"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:

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 unknown)


This is a picture of the actual centerpiece we will feature at our Thanksgiving table this year. My 4-year-old daughter made it. I think it's perfect.