Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.

I can honestly say that while I do take time to reflect on the many things in my life for which I’m grateful, I have no moral issue with treating this holiday as a chance to eat, and eat GOOD.

And this year, to my growing excitement, we’re doing it up. We’re going OUT.

For the past many years, we’ve always celebrated with friends, and it’s always been fantastic – tons of planning and shopping and cooking and baking and table-setting and general mayhem. But this year, my friend M and I would gaze at each other, slightly lost, whenever the subject of Thanksgiving came up. What are you doing, she’d say. I don’t know, I’d say. What are you doing?

No idea.

So finally I suggested that this year, we save ourselves the labor of producing a meal that takes days to prepare and then gets consumed in about 20 minutes. Let’s go to an effing restaurant, I said.

And by god, that’s what we’re doing.

M has made the reservation, and we’ll be sitting down for a three-course, beautifully prepared Thanksgiving dinner…made by not us. And then someone else will clean up. Not us.

No clean up.

That’s what I’m thankful for.