I don't mean the turkey. It was perfect, all 21 pounds of it. Actually, all of the food was perfect except maybe the stuffing, which was tasty but a little bit dry. Nope, no family mishaps or uproar; my family is the best. My husband shopped, rearranged furniture, made pie, cleaned up after me. The kids ironed linens, set the table, peeled potatoes. And my friends: my friends saved the day.
No, “oops” because just as everybody was getting settled in and jolly, and I was about to enter the sprint for the finish that is the last hour of making Thanksgiving dinner, as I was chopping mirepoix for the brussels sprouts, being simultaneously tormented, entertained, and distracted by one of my hilarious friends, I very nearly severed the tip of my left pinky. Lucky me, I only got about halfway through.