Thanksgiving Itinerary of a Woman Who’s Taking a More Relaxed Approach to the Holiday This Year

Then why did I wake up at 5am? I don’t know! Just in case.

5:00am Wake up 15 minutes before my alarm goes off. Every year I work so hard to host a beautiful Thanksgiving for my family, only to realize that I was so focused on making everything perfect that I didn’t take a moment to enjoy it. This year I’m not overthinking things. All I have to do is stick the turkey in the oven. Everything else is basically done.

Then why did I wake up at 5am? I don’t know! Just in case.

5:15am Pour myself a cup of coffee. I’m glad I cleaned up the house last night. This is so relaxing. Later I’ll turn on the parade, and maybe I’ll even have time to watch some of the National Dog Show.

5:20am Hmm. I have a dog. You know when you go on vacation for a long weekend and when you come back, you smell your house the way other people smell it? I should have gone away for a long weekend so I could come home and give my house a sniff test. Dog odor could ruin Thanksgiving for everybody.

5:25am Spend two hours steam cleaning all the furniture and carpets.

7:25am Now that the house is fresh, I open the fridge for breakfast. I notice the trays of side dishes I bought from a local caterer. Roasted Brussels sprouts, sage butternut squash, buttermilk mashed potatoes, and herb stuffing. All gourmet, all pre-made and ready to heat in the oven for ten minutes. So easy!

7:26am I just feel like it’s cheating to have someone else make the sides. I’ve promised my family a traditional home-cooked Thanksgiving meal. Sure, I’ll put everything in my nice serving dishes, and nobody will know I didn’t cook them, and even if they did know they wouldn’t care, and I mean sure, they’re going to taste better than any of the undercooked mess I always serve. Sure. It just feels like cheating.

7:27am Shove the pre-made dishes to the side and remove my backup vegetables from the crisper. I start chopping. My family deserves a real meal that I actually cooked. Or undercooked, haha! Preparing four different sides from scratch won’t take long, and coordinating oven temperatures and times won’t be complicated.

8:35am Time to prepare the turkey! This is such a simple step. I shove some aromatics inside the bird, rub a pat of butter underneath its skin, and cover it in my special holiday rub.

8:45am Notice a few tears in the turkey’s skin. What if all the moisture escapes through the skin holes while it’s cooking and then the turkey dries out? Does that happen? Am I going to serve my family a dry, embarrassing turkey? No, I won’t worry about silly things like turkey skin holes. Not this year!

8:46am Preheat the oven.

8:47am Starting to second guess myself about the turkey’s skin holes. First of all, I paid good money at the turkey farm. When I gave the farmer $60 for a turkey, I wanted a “farm fresh turkey,” not a “raggedy ass turkey with skin holes.”

8:55am Put on my coat and boots and head outside to grab a shotgun from the shed. I trek into the forest behind my house.

9:30am Return home dragging a 20 pound tom behind me. I cut its head off with a hatchet, remove its innards, and pluck its feathers.

9:50am Stuff the turkey with aromatics and cover it in my special holiday rub, and then slide it into the preheated oven. That was easy! I’m so relaxed.

10:15am Dig my old precalculus textbook out of a box in the basement and start calculations to determine when I should turn the oven temp up to roast the squash and when to turn it down for the sprouts and what can be in the oven at the same time and how to coordinate everything so it’s all done cooking at the exact same time and nobody has to eat cold stuffing.

12:00pm My guests arrive. I greet them and usher them out of the kitchen. Everyone can go enjoy themselves in the living room. The National Dog Show is about to begin.

12:05pm I’m not even thinking about the turkey because it has a pop-up thermometer in its thigh. When it pops up, the turkey’s done. Hosting is so easy.

12:10pm I bought the high-end disposable plates and cutlery so we can still feel fancy without hours of dishwashing. I set the table with my fancy disposable plates and cutlery, then throw it all in the trash and climb up to the attic crawl space to find my bone china. This is a holiday, after all.

1:35pm Stick my head into the living room to see if anyone needs a drink. They are all full of mirth as they cheer on a Scottish deerhound. I wonder if they are mad at me.

1:45pm Can I really trust the pop-up thermometer though? It’s a 99 cent piece of plastic. And what if it pops up when I’m not looking and the turkey stays in the oven for too long and I have to serve a dry, embarrassing turkey?

1:46pm Set up camp in front of the oven and stare through the window, unblinking, until my eyeballs are as dry as the hypothetical turkey in my imagination. Family members meander in and out and try to chat with me, but I’m hypnotized by the sizzling fowl.

2:00pm The thermometer pops. I snatch the turkey from the oven and stick a real meat thermometer in it because I don’t trust that raggedy ass pop up thermometer and I am not trying to give my loved ones salmonella. Not this year, when I’m relaxing and enjoying the holiday.

2:30pm In what could only be a glitch in the space-time continuum, I get all of the food on the table at once. Everyone sits down and compliments my feast. They are so happy to be here and give thanks together on this day.

2:31pm I announce “THE TURKEY IS DRY AND EMBARRASSING!” over everyone’s compliments. Hosting Thanksgiving is hard work. I really shouldn’t be so relaxed about it next year.

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This piece originally appeared at The Belladonna Comedy, where Kristen Mulrooney is an editor.

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