I’m a slacker . . . once again!

Although, at least three times a day, I think of fun things to blog about, somehow, when I get settled and comfy at home, it doesn’t translate into me actually sitting down and writing. What’s THAT about? I wish I knew.

So, in preparation for the Thanksgiving feast that I annually toil over, I began my search for strays relatively late in the process. Going wild to prepare a 10 course meal for the three of us seems excessive to me, so I like to invite people to join us. Last year, I had a full table of six. And, by the way, I never invite more than can sit at the table, so generally I’m looking to hand out three invitiations. Any more than three extras is unwieldy. This year, two friends — a married couple — the husband of which my family has known since I was a teenager — are going to come by, so it looks like I’m having a party of five, which is actually perfect.

One of my friends was toying with the idea of inviting herself, along with her husband, 2-year-old, and 1-year-old. Thank GOD she worked herself out of that option. I’m not really known for my child-friendly gatherings, and would be in a constant state of unrest among screaming toddlers. As it is, because of my mother, I sip (okay . . . gulp!) liberal amounts of wine all throughout the day. If two kids were involved, I would probably be an IV drug user by the end of the night.

I’m waiting to see what disaster will occur this year. Last year was pretty mild, although I had trouble with the turkey thermometer. A week before Thanksgiving ‘05, I forced my friend Tiffany to come with me to Williams Sonoma, where the must-have item was an electronic talking thermometer. Yep, I’m a gadgety chick. That freaking thing did nothing but confuse me all day. One hour after I put my 17+ pound bird in the oven, the thermometer told me, with authority, that I only had 1.5 hours of cook time. Exactly five minutes later, the temperature soothsayer convincingly asserted that it would be 6 hours until dinner time. WTF? I would have been better off sticking my hand in the cavity of the bird and trying to assess the temperature myself. I ended up going the analog route, and sticking a traditional mercury-based thermometer into the turkey breast, thereby avoiding poisoning my guests and myself by serving raw poultry.

Last year, I also made the fatal error of having a dessert party after Thanksgiving dinner. It sounded like a good idea the week before, but I knew that I’d made a serious mistake when I reached exhaustion by 8:30. I had a few guests that flat-out REFUSED to leave until some crazy hour of the night, which meant that I was putting food away and cleaning until well after 1:00 am.

Hmmm . . . did I say that last year was mild?

The year before, I managed to clog my garbage disposal with potato peelings. I’m sure I must have blogged about it, but since I’m too lazy to go and find the link, I will give you the condensed version — it was a FUCKING nightmare. What could be worse than finding yourself, in the throes of cooking 8 different dishes, that one of the most important appliances in the kitchen is inoperable? And you’re to blame! As I recall, I went to the ghetto Jewel near my house and bought a solution — something that claimed to be a drain laxative. It didn’t work. I ended up using my tried and true remedy — baking soda and white vinegar. Nothing’s better than a good explosion to clear out those nasty potato peels.

I’ll report back next week with updates on this year’s meal. Keep your fingers crossed that it goes off without a hitch.

If you get a chance, check out the new column today . It’s all about finding love while salsa dancing. Fun stuff!!!