I love the smell of yeast rolls rising in the oven.

I've got my potatoes peeled and cut and soaking in water waiting to be cooked.

I've got pumpkin pie and peanut butter chocolate cheesecake in the fridge. (And not one but two kinds of ice cream.)

I've got fryer parts soaking in buttermilk waiting to be dredged in flour and fried golden.

I've talked to my Dad and I've talked to my friend and we got a nice email from the Brother and Sister-In-Law in Florida. Nana and Grandma will be here at 2. Sister and Brother-In-Law with be here for dessert with the Michigan Nephew's. (The Michigan Niece's are in Nebraska with his family this year.) The Big Boy is expected soon.

I think I've finally grown to appreciate this holiday. This year, especially, I have so much to be thankful for. We are truly blessed. I have a happy marriage and wonderful kids and a job I don't really hate all that much and I work with some of the coolest people on the planet. I have friends I've known and loved for years. I have a lifestyle that I only dreamed about as a child. (Probably not as wonderful as some, but wonderful for me.) I have my family, dysfunctional as they are, and a new bond with the In-Laws.

One of the things I'm most thankful for this year is that I'm finally becoming comfortable in my own skin, happy with me. (Doesn't make for very dramatic writing, but it's a hell of a lot easier to live with!)

Grandma and I were talking the other day about cooking. After years of Nana complaining that she hated cooking on Thanksgiving because she spent her entire day off in the kitchen and then had to work extra hard the next day, Grandma tends to push the "going out for Thanksgiving dinner" route.

Hubband won't go for that. He wants the feast. So, years ago when his parents and Sister's family decided to join their church's dinner every year, we tried it. And decided that eating with a large group of strangers wasn't really what worked for us. (Yes, I know that's the whole spirit of the damned holiday but we're selfish people.)

So the next year, I decided I would have Thanksgiving at home. And we did it up. Turkey with the trimmings. Bells and whistles included.

Unfortunately, Nana and Grandma are not nuts about turkey. And none of us really were very good at carving. So the turkey looked kind of massacred by the time we sat down to eat. (Still tasted good though. I know how to cook me some bird!)

So, last year I made Pot Roast. I had a craving for my great-grandmother's comfort food and had inherited this great Dutch Oven from the Mother-In-Law. It was yummy. And we still had stuffing and mashed potatoes, etc.

This year, we're compromising with Fried Chicken. Hey, it's poultry and it's already cut up.

I swear we have enough food to feed an army here.

But, none of that was really the point...

The point I was trying to make to my Grandma, and in turn to you all, was that I've grown to really enjoy cooking lately. It's because I've found the key.

The key to cooking is to RELAX!

That's it. Just go with it. Work with it. Improvise. Make things up as you go along. Whatever.

Believe me, it's a lesson I've had to learn the hard way.

The first Thanksgiving I ever cooked was when I was in college and living with Alcoholic Ex-Con Boyfriend. The Parents were together then (again) and not very happy with my living arrangements, but agreed to dinner.

I had zero experience in the kitchen. None.

So when I asked AECB to bring home a turkey, I was expecting a pop-up timer and some instructions on the wrapper. Instead he brought me this huge thing from the farmer's market that still had a head attached!

After a couple of emergency calls to my Aunt Who Is Everything Domestic, I found out how to cook this bird.

NOTE: Here's the secret to cooking any turkey - throw the wrapper away, put the bird in the oven at 375 degrees, 15 minutes per pound and then another 20 minutes or so for good measure. Butter the skin to keep it moist and tent it with foil until the last half hour.

Something like that. Anyway we ended up having to weigh that bird on the bathroom scale but it looked beautiful when it was done. I had spent two whole days cooking and I'm sure we had enough food to feed 37 people but I was ready when they walked in.

My Dad decided he would help bring the bird from the pan to the plate while I did something else. He used two forks to pick it up (Mistake #1) and then moved it over the floor to the opposite counter (Mistake #2) where it promptly fell apart all over the floor!

Once they convinced me to come out of the bathroom and stop crying, we had a nice meal. The bird was great and the cat really enjoyed the parts that didn't make it to the table. It gave us a warm family story to tell.

Add to that the time that I sliced a chunk of my hand into the pot roast and had to go the emergency room on 4th of July; the time that my third attempt at a cake for Nana's surprise 50th birthday party ended up face down on the floor; the time that I gave Hubband food poisening with Chicken Soup and the time that I attempted to frost my son's 1st birthday cake in 90 degrees of hot kitchen and ended up going slasher on it with a butcher knife and I think you'll get an idea of what it was like for me in the early years.

So here's a hint to all you newly wedded, first home warming, holiday celebrating Martha Stewart wanna-be's: Relax. Because in the end what it looks like matters not. They're here for the company and the comfort and the taste.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!