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"SURPRISE!" yelled Harold as he stepped through the back door carrying a 25 pound turkey. "Look what I found Honey! It's pretty solidly frozen. We're gonna have to thaw it out some before tomorrow." He handed me the frozen lump of flesh. "Harold, I thought I told you to buy a FRESH turkey," I grumbled. "Now I'll have to defrost this one so it'll be ready in time." His face fell. "I'm sorry, Hon," he said meekly, putting on his "I've been injured" face. It made me laugh. Harold had been a very good boy lately. He was trying to placate me because he knew how badly I hated having his side of the family over for dinner. They were all idiots.

"So, what was the head count again?" I asked. "Eight adults and one and one half children." "What the heck does that mean?" I responded. "Sylvia's baby is just two weeks old." "She doesn't count then," I said. "Is your Aunt Trixie coming again?" "Yup." "Well, put her and her date at the very end of the table," I pointed. "I would rather NOT sit next to the moronic bagpiper." "Oh, you won't," said Harold. "She dumped him. Now she's dating a grave digger." I was beginning to hyperventilate and had an overwhelming urge to find a paper bag to breathe into. "You and your family!" I huffed. "I swear. You guys remind me of the Addams family!"

The blessed day came, and so did Harold's wacko family. I had forgotten about Uncle Lester the germophobe. He wandered the house, looking for signs of plague. I heard a scream and he appeared at the bathroom door, pale as death. "I see a cockroach from hell in the bathroom!" he panted. Upon inspection, it was a miniscule black beetle. I squashed it in a Kleenex, washed my hands and went back into the kitchen. The back door slammed. Harold came in the kitchen, nonplussed. "He's gone," he said. "What was that all about?" "Nothing," I said, but thought GOOD RIDDANCE! I was getting a monster migraine. "Harold, be a dear and get me a scotch on the rocks with a dollop of thorazine in it." "Yeperoonie, sweetheart. That's do-able." He slouched off into the den. I was positive he hadn't heard the last part of the sentence.

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch. I breathed a sigh of relief. All I had to do now was get throught the after dinner NUT-A-THON. Another couple of hours of doltish conversation and bizarre behavior and I would have run the gauntlet for another year. I could hardly wait for it to be over.

Everyone had all the old LPs out and were putting some tunes on the turn table. The hi-fi started blaring Perry Como songs. Aunt Trixie was winding up. She and the grave digger were gyrating around the floor. The bystanders (more like couch potatoes) were cheering them on. "Do the tango!! No, no...NOT the Twist...The TANGO!! Trixie had a plastic yellow rose in her mouth. God knew where she dug it up. I wanted to start laughing hysterically, but bit my lips. Then things got a bit wild. Trixie and Mr. Mortuary wriggled into the kitchen, slipped on the linoleum and fell tush over teakettle on the floor, taking half the leftover food on the table with them. They sat up smeared with greasy gravy and began picking wilted salad leaves out of their hair. "I think I dropped my earring in the cranberry sauce," said Trixie. "Okay, don't get upset, but...uh, I think some of your hair came off," said the grave digger. Trixie's blonde wiglet had landed square on the dog's head. She shot off the floor, covering her bald spot with her hands. "Give that back!" she screamed. The dog took off with Trixie in hot pursuit. "I never saw a 300 pound woman run so fast," marveled my husband.

We didn't get the whole crowd out the door until 10:00 that night. I was ready to collapse. My migraine was throbbing and on top of it all, I was having hot flashes! Harold looked at me, concerned. "Honey, you all right?" he queried. I shook my head. "I think I need a drink. Or morphine. Or mass quantities of estrogen," I moaned. "Won't someone dope me up and take me to hormone heaven? I don't think I can stand another year of Thanksgiving dinner with your family!" I wailed. "Next year, I'm putting REAL cockroaches in the bathroom and arsenic in the turkey!! You owe me, buddy! If you ever want sex again you'd better show up tomorrow with a bottle of champagne, a dozen red roses and some very expensive jewelry!" I yelled. And to my husband's credit, that's exactly what he did.