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Color me as surprised as anyone else; our turkey day went off without a hitch. I called my aunt in Rhode Island. "You gotta lift up the tuchas," she says. "They hide the heart and the giblets in a secret bag under the tuchas!" We didn't find it 'till the turkey was carved, after all.

Eleven people, four pies, and seven bottles of wine. Marcus bought pin lights, the icicle ones, and we strapped 'em up with a staplegun and the room was positively festive. Ghetto, but festive.

I knitted four scarves.

*

I invented a baste of butter and chicken broth, garlic and Gulden's Spicy Brown mustard. I kicked turkey-basting's ass. I basted every half hour for five hours. "Anyone wanna get pregnant?"

Bron and Micah cleaned the fuck out of this house. We shopped five, six times. We have one small saucepan to use as a pot, and no meat thermometer. We made FIVE DISHES. We played the Name Game, and I thought of

pene, and I love you and I'm worried about you and I miss you.

We COOKED THINGS. Ask

sorlklewis -- she did most of the heavy recipe-ing and preparing. (I just BASTED. I also cut up two oranges, in the skin, and cooked them inside the turkey. I'm Alton Brown!)

Anyway, I took pictures.

Bron washed the turkey, because my aunt told us to.

Also, we rubbed the inside with salt, for some reason.

Maayan was staunchly supervisorial, you see.

Bron made stuffing!

People showed up! Shox!

JD! As seen here with Maay. and Marcus.

We played X-Box and parlor games!

And wrestled! (Shox, as seen here with Amy.)

But CHECK ME OUT I MADE A TURKEY!

(In other news, Amy's still hot.)

L'chaim, dude.

Dinner!

On a real live table. Though, you'll note, at least three of us are sitting on a bed.

Clockwise, from left: turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, string bean casserole, mashed potatoes (made from scratch by Shox, after we soundly vetoed the powdered kind.)