I'll be getting up early in the morning to start cooking the turkey.
Actually, it won't be my turkey, and there'll be three of them, medium-sized.
They belong to the neighbor, whose wife's cooked Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's turkeys here since I moved out here the autumn of 2005. There's a really big kitchen with hardly anything in it--and miles and miles of clean bare formica counter-space--and by doing things this way, she can use her own large modern state-of-the-art kitchen (this is an "old-fashioned kitchen" here) for preparing other food.
Less clutter, less mess.
I've always started it, and watched it, until she's come over in late morning to take over. It's finished, carved and sliced, and transported to their place in a 48-quart Thermos chest.
It goes without saying that franksolich has always been part of the meal--the family's the neighbor, the neighbor's wife, and four young children--but this year it's including the neighbor's older brother, his wife, and their four children too.
And this is repeated for Christmas and New Year's too; it's heaven, dining on turkey leftovers from Thanksgiving through mid-January. One never gets tired of turkey.