Ah, so it begins.
From my cousin:
“Well, so far, there will be about thirty of us. We should talk about
the menu and see what we want everyone to bring. We’ll need two
turkeys. Kevin says he wants to deep fry one.”
This, from my cousin Leland in Kansas where we will meet for
Thanksgiving. I will happily fly to Tulsa from Los Angeles, then drive
on cruise control 120 miles to the small town of Parsons for
Thanksgiving dinner at his big blue Victorian home with a host of
cousins, grandchildren, stray local teen-agers and two uncles well into
their 80s. (One will bring a cream pie and the other, green jello.)
Once we settle where the out-of-towners sleep we will find ourselves
smack in this small town of 13,000 in the middle of the country, the
grocery shopping dependent on a Wal Mart just outside the city limits
where there is never a shortage of iceberg lettuce, year round. (A
side note: I felt slapped down, yet hopeful to discover a small plastic
container of basil buried among the radishes when last there.)
Whenever my sister-in-law comes to visit, she tries to sneak in rum balls. There's a deli near Union Square that sells them and it must be sending out a homing signal. A rum ball beacon. It doesn't matter what we're doing or where we are, it's only a matter of time before she says "who wants to go get rum balls!" It's not really a question so much as a rallying cry. 
Since Thanksgiving is all about so many heavy dishes, such as mashed potatoes, gratin and gravies, it's always nice to have a little bit of
green at the table.
Considering everybody on your holiday gift list – friends, family,
co-workers, neighbors, your kids' teachers – you might be needing a
stimulus package before you even get to the big-ticket items this year.
So why not take a page from your grandmother's playbook and make the
smaller gifts yourself?
I always think it's fun to offer your guests a couple of beverage choices. Champagne is always a good celebratory drink and wine and beer are no-brainers.