Prep

I was talking to My Girl Nancy on the phone the other morning -- yes, we talk on the phone; yes it's hugely important to us; yes, we may be the last people on the planet who talk on the phone to eachother -- and I told her we were hosting Thanksgiving and I had to make all my lists and figure out what to do. She said to me, "Dude, you gave me the best advice last year." "What? Me? I did?" "Yes! You said to save all the grocery store and menu lists and save them in a file for next year." "I know, dude; I know. But I can't find it."

I found it.

 I have the best Thanksgiving file.

All the lists, all the menus, all the everything, year after year. It's so good. I am going grocery shopping with no new list this year. Seriously.

 And I save the really good Thanksgiving sections from the years too . . .

 . . . but then I found *this* folder, with really all the best Thanksgiving sections . . . including this year's which features Alison Roman who is my new best friend / slash / girl crush.

I love her. And her cooking inspires me. I am inspired.

In the meantime, everybody, let me pass on the brilliant Thanksgiving hosting advice one of the stories on this table imparts:

Okay, I can't find that. To paraphrase:

When your guests walk in, make sure your house smells like turkey, and be in a good mood / slash / don't complain / slash / fake it with a big smile on your face.

Good advice, right?

Happy Thanksgiving Week, my lovelies.

And a shout out to:

Happy Birthday to our glorious niece and goddaughter Erin. 27!

Happy Birthday to our glorious friend Mr. Slips. 60!

We'll miss you so much this year, Mumsie.

We love you forever, Jimmy.