Wouldja look at that? That was my dining room table on Thursday. I would have made my Mom proud-I used a table cloth and everything! I've never busted out all the fancy-schmancy serving pieces I got from my Aunt Betty. The ones that I unwrapped with polite smiles while thinking (at the time), "Thanks, but when will I ever use this useless crap?" Note that I have a wine chiller on my table. A Wine. Chiller. It doesn't get much more useless than that.

And you know what I was thinking when I set all this up on my table? Mooooorrrrrrre. I want more! I wanted more useless pieces of tarnishable serving-ware to serve my wares upon! I wished for a soup turine! Longed for a candleabra! Pined for a giant platter! Jonesed for a set of crab forks!

One day, people will come over to my home for dinner and think they're sitting in first-class dining on the Titanic. It will take me a while to accumulate the amount of useless crap I will need to be able to pull that off, but I will do it.

And why? Why the sudden streak of materialism?

Because it looks pretty. And now-a-days, we just don't eat with the same ceremony as we did a hundred years ago. People used to dress for dinner. Change into fancy clothes-just to eat the last meal of the day. I want the occasion to come where I will hear myself say, "Now if you will excuse me, I have to dress for dinner." And have fancy-ass dress waiting for my ass to fill it.

Don't misunderstand-I don't want that kind of pomp entering my day to day life. I am a very casual, low-key, lazy gal. It'd drive me insane to have to put on that kind of show every day. That's why the folks that DID have that kind of spread every day had servants. Just, you know, every now and then, I want to unleash my inner aristocrat. Talk through a clenched jaw. Pretend I know how to play tennis.

Other than realizing I have this aspiration, I was very proud of my first Thanksgiving meal prepared in my own home. Chris had a lot--okay, everything--to do with it . . . but I made cranberry sauce. And you can't have Thanksgiving . . . without cranberry . . . sauce. Yeah.

Chris was very cute. But manly! Very manly. And a little nerdy. But manly overall.

He was all jazzed about deep-frying the turkey. He did research. He borrowed a turkey fryer. He was all set to get a propane tank. He sent me to buy peanut oil. He found out it cost $36.00 for a 3 gallon jug of the stuff and we needed at least 4 gallons. He realized doing the turkey alone was going to cost us over $100. He put his deep-fried dreams on the shelf.

Then, since he was going to be using the oven to cook the turkey . . . he made a schedule. He planed out when he needed to be out of bed, when the bird had to be out of the fridge, when his other side dishes needed to be done, and he got me to organize my shit so that the pies I was making would bake while we were eating dinner and the oven was turkey free. Stuff I never would have thought of. And if I'd been in charge, we'd be eating our Thanksgiving dinner sometime on Saturday.

When the man is passionate and driven about something, he is exact, commanding, and damn sexy. I was proud to be his lady. So proud, I did this to myself:

He was working the kitchen. I had the time. I did my hair. I wore make-up. I wore a dress. And, I wore pearls. Pearls, dammit. (Or, Pearl-looking beads, as it were.)

Though it was just Chris' children, Chris, and myself, I had a good time. (I missed my kids terribly--but they are with their Dad in Michigan for the holiday, playing with cousins, aunts, uncles & family galore. How could I be upset about that?) Chris made a wonderful meal-and it was gluten & dairy-free! Something that seems a daunting task to others, but he handeled with ease. I made some kick-ass cranberry sauce. (Thank God it isn't hard to make and only requires three ingredients.) I made some pie and apple crisp, but they weren't my best work.

It was a good day. And it made me incredibly thankful. Thankful that I: didn't have to make the turkey, that we had money to buy a turkey, that I have a nice house to have a nice meal in, that I have a wonderful man that wraps his arms around me and loves me hard and with all his heart, that I have two little boys that I get to hug and kiss in just a few more days, that Chris has two kids with beautiful hearts that find they actually enjoy helping out when they're not busy seing surly, that I have phenominal parents and come from such a great line of amazing ladies. I missed my Grandma and cried for her while I was doing dishes.

She would have been proud of the table cloth, too.