This post is going to border on the ridiculous.  Especially considering my admission the other day about the fact that I get away with murder every Thanksgiving.

But, I have no pride so I am going to share anyway.

I am a complete and total STUFFING SNOB.

I admit it.  I like only one kind of stuffing – my Mom’s.  That is pretty much it.  Oh, I can appreciate others. And Lord knows, I’ll eat them.  But none signals the season for me like that of  my mother’s.  (I’m addicted…just ask my hips.  They’ll back me up on it.) It never really feels like Thanksgiving  if I don’t have it.

I remember when I was a teenager and my brother’s and sister and I would scoop up bowls of stuffing and gravy and eat it for breakfast.  And lunch. And dinner.

My mom had to make so much stuffing for us that she would just clean out the kitchen sink and prepare the ingredients right there.  Mmmm….. the memories. She’d make two giant pans full and I swear it was gone in two days maximum.

The irony of the situation is that my husband isn’t that big on my mom’s stuffing.  He doesn’t understand my NEED for it each year.  He prefers Stove Top.  STOVE TOP!  (Dude, that is a SIN in my family. You would actually have to go to confession if you admitted that.)

So although I will, no doubt, be enjoying an amazing dinner at my sister-in-law’s house, I will be missing my special holiday friend.  (Sniff, sniff)

MY Thanksgiving VICE is stuffing.  What is yours?

I can’t believe it is Thanksgiving already.  I’ve barely had enough time to breathe in the past few months let alone prepare for the upcoming holiday onslaught.

Wait a minute.  Who am I kidding?

I prepare for nothing. I buy some flowers and some wine and head on over to someone else’s house.  I’ve been getting away with it for years.  We usually take turns visiting my parents in Maryland and my husband’s family in New Jersey.  That, in a nutshell, is our tradition.

Dinner is usually prepared my mom (yay, stuffing!) or my sister-in-law (yay, cocktails!). I keep busy by messing around in the kitchen and pretending to be helpful while sipping on vino.  It works for me, okay?

I do nothing and yet somehow I am fed. 

The fact that I don’t possess the talent needed to cook ginormous holiday meals has occasionally backfired, though.

Like that time that I didn’t want to make my mother-in-law cook a huge dinner just to accommodate us and we ended up spending Thanksgiving in a DINER.  In New Jersey. With two children under the age of five. FOR OVER TWO AND A HALF HOURS.

Yeah, it was THAT bad.

I no longer leave big meals to chance.  Not that I have learned how to cook a bird, just that I bring enough alcohol to make the hostess very, very happy.

So who wants some company next year?