Mr. Strong: “Now, tell me again. How many people are coming to our house for Thanksgiving?”
Me: “Are you serious! I’ve already told you 52 times! We are having 21 people.”
Mr. Strong: “And just for me, let’s go over the menu again.”
Me (sighing loudly because we’ve gone over the menu a bazillion times): “I think I just want to kill myself. We are having turkey, brunswick stew, dressing, sweet potato crunch, green beans, broccoli casserole, squash casserole… key lime cake, pumpkin cheesecake…”
Mr. Strong (beginning to sharpen a knife): “I just need to know that we have enough food.”
Me: “All you are responsible for is the turkey. That is all. Don’t worry about the rest. Just do the turkey.”
Mr. Strong: “But with 21 people, do you think we have enough food?
Me (through gritted teeth): “You are starting to sound like your mother.”
Mr. Strong (handing me the knife with a big smile): “Here you go. Just in case. You know with that suicide business.”
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Thanksgiving was a hit. We have leftovers enough to feed an army. E-mail me and I’ll send directions.
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