“'Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.”

- William Shakespeare

Ah Thanksgiving. That wonderful holiday where families get together to give thanks for all their blessings and enjoy an evening nap that comes from eating a bird whose only purpose in life is to make you sleepy. For some odd reason I have taken it upon myself to cook the Thanksgiving dinner for my friends and family. It seemed like such a good idea at the time; sit down to a meal, have some wine, and enjoy the holiday with people I'm thankful for.

The problem lies with the fact that me and my oven are not on the best of terms right now. I think it's jealous of my relationship with the microwave.

I don't really mean to be negative, but if the Pilgrims knew what single life in the year 2006 would be like, then they would have had the consideration to create a tradition of having a delivered pizza with the Indians and saved me a long trip to the grocery store.

The headaches began when I thought it would be cool to be all manly this year and hunt down my own turkey. The only problem is Wegman's doesn't allow you to bring a shotgun into the store.

It's just as well because I don't know what kind of turkey call to use when the turkey doesn't even have a head anymore. And don't believe all that hype about it being a “free range” bird either because this little tail-feather cost me about $24; and I only have about 30 bucks to spend in the first place.

There's some other items on the menu on Thanksgiving that get a little too much exposure.

Cranberry sauce. Now I don't want to get all snooty about a side dish, but come on, cranberry sauce is nothing more than jelly shaped like a can, and since I already have some Smuckers at home, I make the mental note that this is one item I don't need to buy.

I go cruising down the aisles and every now and then look into other people's carts to get some inspiration and I saw a woman getting croutons.

Then it hit me. If I took croutons and shoved them into the bird along with some lettuce then I'd have my dressing and the salad all on the same plate. Now this is an innovation!

I stand there smiling thinking I'm on a roll , oh yes, I'm forgetting ... the rolls!

I glide over to the bakery and see the packages lying there like helpless dough balls.

I rationalize that since the oven will be occupied by the bird-salad combo, I need to get something already baked; so into the cart goes a dozen hamburger buns ... if anyone comments on them I'll say that they are pre-sliced “king” size rolls.

I finally decided to blow the budget on some quality boxed wine, because, well, you've heard what I plan on serving and if they get enough wine in them maybe they won't notice. Happy Thanksgiving.

Auburn native Bradley Molloy's column appears here every

Sunday in The Citizen. He

can be reached at

lovonian@hotmail.com