But we’re all sick of turkey. We had turkey last week for Christmas, and a pork loin for Boxing Day, and I know Dad wouldn’t touch lamb. So what’s left? There aren’t all that many edible animals when you think about it. Which is why I decided to try a goose this year, a ten-pounder. I ordered it special from DeLuca’s downtown, and if Dad knew what I paid for this hunk of bird he’d have a conniption. If he asks me outright, as he’s apt to do, I plan to start humming loudly or put the radio on.

It’s early morning, only eight o’clock, when I get out of bed on New Year’s Day. Dennis and I were out at our annual potluck last night, just four couples, the same bunch every year, and didn’t get home till three-thirty-but I don’t need all that much sleep. Today a dozen sirens kicked me awake. First, I forgot to take the goose out of the deep-freeze yesterday, and now I’m having to fast-thaw it in a sinkful of warm water, poking my arm way up into its icy ribcage. Its skin looks bluish-gray and very prickly around the thighs, not especially appealing. Then there’s the stuffing to make. I’m trying out a new mushroom and cashew recipe, and I’m also going to serve a squash soufflé with green onions and chopped parsley for color. I put chopped parsley on everything; it’s got lots of iron. When Dennis and I were first married, he used to give me a hard time about my chopped parsley and said I’d probably sprinkle a handful on his dead corpse if he went first. Now he’s used to it; he’s actually got so he likes it.

He’s still asleep, Dennis. I always get up first on holidays, there’s so much to do. Besides the stuffing and the squash thing, I want to mop the kitchen floor and clean out the fireplace. I like to have things organized before the kids get too wound up and before Dennis starts thinking up projects. He’ll want to take the tree down, I know that, but I want it up one more day. I’d just as soon take it down myself tomorrow when he’s gone back to work and the kids are back at school.