According to The Joy of Cooking, stuffing and dressing are used interchangably. However, The Joy also notes that some people reserve “stuffing” only for that which is actually stuffed into the bird. I am one of those.

I do not, will not, stuff the bird. The less time my hand remains in the bird’s body cavity, the better.

Ergo, I make my DRESSING in advance. In fact, I have just finished doing so. And while I do refer to a cookbook, I don’t actually use a cookbook as I am one of those fly-by-the-seat of your pants cooks, much as my mother and her mother before her were.

So what I did was cut up a loaf and a half of French bread yesterday. Then I baked it in the oven for a while last night to toast it a bit.

Today, I combined with the other ingredients: craisins (they absorb the extra moisture and plump up), chicken broth (you should never be without chicken broth in your kitchen!), poultry seasoning, onions, celery, and sausage meat (I browned the sausage meat for a few minutes and then at the onions and celery and let them all cook together). Then you pop it in the 350 oven for 25-30 minutes (don’t overcook it because you are going to reheat it tomorrow) and Voila!

It is quite possible that dressing should not be photographed, but I have done so regardless.

A close up of the not yet baked dressing.

Fresh out of the oven! Smell that sausage!

In a concerted effort to bring mundanity ever more to the forefront of this blog, I have decided to spend the next several days presenting you with my Thanksgiving preparations and cleanup (including, and I know this will excite you, the turkey soup I will make when it’s all said and done). So hold onto your hats because this is going to be one helluva ride.

up next: dressing and carrots

Oooooh. The lovely Jordan has Mary Gaitskill on her show on December 7th. You won’t want to miss that. I won’t be missing it.

I’ve not read Veronica yet (and I never read Two Girls, though I own a copy) but Bad Behavior remains one of my favorite short story collections. I remember when my friend Jeff thrust (he did thrust it!) it into my hands something like fifteen years ago and said, “You should read this.” And I did. And when I did, I thought, “Wow. It’s okay to say these things. To be honest. To show ourselves as we are.”

On Thursday, I am hosting my second Thanksgiving (it will be the third turkey I’ve ever cooked). I’ve got myself all wound up already but I found these great tips for others who are in my same (gravy) boat: Thanksgiving Tips.

Go to Stephanie’s blog where she has posted a link to the belief-o-matic and give it a try. The results might surprise you. They certainly surprised me.

You know it’s time to quit smoking when… you try to open a plane door MID-FLIGHT so that you can light up your cig:

Sandrine Helene Sellies, 34, who has a fear of flying, had drunk alcohol and taken sleeping tablets ahead of the flight from Hong Kong to Brisbane.

She was seen on the Cathay Pacific plane walking towards a door with an unlit cigarette and a lighter.

This week on the Bat Segundo show–Jennifer Weiner:

Condition of Mr. Segundo: Concerned with time and elusive apocalypses.

Subjects Discussed: Mysteries, Susan Isaacs, Zoe Heller, the specific details of murder, inexplicable shame and guilt among the Marina crowd, diapers vs. cloth, whether Matt Lauer should be peed on, the inversion of tough-guy dialogue, first-person voice, observational novels, chicklit, dismissive husbands, the “Free to Be You and Me” generation, feminism, the Young, Roving Correspondent (and other men) perplexed by pink covers, attracting male audiences to chicklit, perspective, the New York Times, Margaret Atwood, Uglydolls, Ann Coulter, Caitlin Flanagan, nannies and motherhood, plotting, Stephen King, the ideal motorized vehicle to be run over by, hands shaking, wedgies, pink book covers, Anne Rice, editorial battles over human moments, Jonathan Franzen, penises, the In Her Shoes film adaptation, Toni Collette, the inexplicable science of film advertising, on writing books that offer consistent messages of happiness, responding to criticism about the People hot tub photo shoot, the next book, closeness to narrative voices, Tony Danza, the dense talk show bookers, Book TV, Jezebel Bright and the influence of manga.

That’s right. Now your dog can take a crap in your house with impunity, because there’s… doggy litter

A couple of reminders:

1) Tomorrow (November 18th) is the last day you can submit your entry to the Night Train Yates Competition. It’s only $10 an entry and you get an issue of the journal as an added bonus.

2)My time as the guest editor at the luscious SmokeLong Quarterly is winding down but there are still a few spots open for the issue. You submit online. You don’t even have to get a stamp. What could be better?

The sun is shining for the first time in days and the light is perfect, clear. Makes me wish I was a photographer. Makes me wish my hands were not so shaky, so eager to gather up the images, quickly, greedily.

Here is today:

We have a great deal of moss here and I love it. No matter if the leaves have gone and snow fallen, it is there, bright green and alive, contrasting with the orange of the pine needles. Waiting to be uncovered and examined up close so that you can see its many fibers and how they cling to the light, add definition to the rocks.

And water is everywhere. At the end of my street, there’s a brook that is empty in summer but filled to nearly overflowing in the autumn and spring.

And in my yard there is a brook. When I opened the curtains one morning, in the dim light I saw what looked like a moose lying in the water. I stepped back, excited. Then I moved forward again and thought, “No, it’s a bear.” A bear. I moved closer to the glass and saw what it really was, the exposed underbelly of pine tree roots. The little tree had been growing atop a rock and in the strong wind it was knocked down.

And everywhere there are rocks. Foxes live here. We have seen them sitting, teasing each other, staring brazenly at anyone who comes nearby. Soon, their den will be covered with snow, drifting across the entrance, packing them in as they curl around each other.

But today, it was illuminated, made into an altar of stone and light.

For your reading pleasure today, I offer you: New Again, by the amazing Pia Z. Ehrhardt

This is a photo of the moon a few nights ago from my back window. The tall pines nearly blot it out.

Tonight is the full moon–the beaver moon:

This was the time to set beaver traps before the swamps froze, to ensure a supply of warm winter furs. Another interpretation suggests that the name Full Beaver Moon comes from the fact that the beavers are now actively preparing for winter. It is sometimes also referred to as the Frosty Moon.

And today it is cold and damp today and Darby is making the most of it by sleeping on the futon behind me. He is actively snoring as I type.