Well, this year the Curse is the Old Yarmouth Inn's problem, suckahs! All I need to worry about is figuring out if I'm eating turkey or turkey, or turkey (I'm a traditionalist, I s'pose). And sometime tomorrow night I'll get absurdly hungry and insist my husband take me to a D'Angelos for a turkey sandwich. And I'll sign some stock at the Hyannis B&N. And find and devour another sandwich. Because that's what the holidays are all about: me stuffing myself until all I can do is flop on the floor and moan, "No...more...turkey."
Mmm...turkey...by which I mean Happy Thanksgiving!
(Is it weird that after blogging this I really want some turkey?)