However it got here, November means Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving means turkeys and turkeys means overeating and overeating means dieting and dieting means . . .
Well, you get it.
The minute my son went to bed on Halloween, I said bye-bye to all the orange and black and started pulling out some of my Thanksgiving tchotchkes.
These are vintage Napcoware candle holders. I have them in both the dark meat
and white meat variety.
The white turkey in the middle is a matching planter-like thing. Napcoware made salt and pepper shakers, napkin holders, soup tureens and sugar and creamers all in this same pattern. You could have your own little posse of turkeys on the table if you wanted.
I've seem more modern Thanksgiving table accessories at Home Goods and such, but I'm sort of partial to these old ones that have gone through 1/2 a century of bone dry turkey, cold mashed potatoes and Uncle Sal spilling wine on the tablecloth.
OK, I never thought of it before, but these poor turkeys are forced to watch you devour their kin. It's sort of like their own private turkey hell.
I would give them a pardon this year, but they look so darn festive on the table.