O squash and sweet potatoes, you whose potential is never realized on Thanksgiving Day when for some reason you are whipped and oversweetened and topped with mini marshmallows (WHY?).
O stuffing, I do so love bread, yet not, somehow, when it's been cooked inside a dead bird's carcass.
O green beans, inevitably overcooked and sprinkled with slivered almonds or stale breadcrumbs for pizzazz, how did you come to be the one representative of all other green vegetables at this meal?
O canned, jellied cranberry, sliced and placed on the table where you remain unmolested by all but the elderly and insane, not even a taste of your jiggling mass has ever crossed my lips.
O mashed potatoes and rolls, you are my best and only friends; my plate runneth over with your bounty of carbohydrates. Carbohydrates slathered with butter, no less! And for you both I am so thankful.