But first.

I woke up early yesterday (on my day off!) so Kelsey and I could book our flight to North Carolina for New Year's Eve. I'm already stressed out about packing, because I don't do well when I have to fly. If I'm driving, I don't have to worry about how heavy my bag is, or that I have one bag dedicated to purses and shoes that odds are I won't use. I can bring a pillow (don't judge me) and a blanket (judge me).

Flying is another story. And what do I pack? Who lives in North Carolina? Who can tell me what it's typically like (in Raleigh) at the end of December/beginning of January? I did some research and it said the temperature is usually in the low 50s. But low 50s in the South is different than low 50s in New York (so says I, but that seems right, right?). Any insight is appreciated.

But first...

The big secret I've been gabbing about is slowly but surely coming together. It has an official date: December 20th. And that's all I'm saying for now. More or less because that's all I know.  I've told a few people about it (because I need bodies) (live ones), however I'm not saying anything else here. Just expect a shitstorm on Twitter and Instagram when it goes down.

But first...

I'm hosting a Friendsgiving this year. By the way, I kind of hate that term. Let's pretend I never said that. Okay, good. So, anyway, I'm having a dinner party with some friends next weekend. (I still feel like a pretentious asshole calling it that, but whatever.) I wanted to do it last year, but plans fell through. This year, I sent out an invite of sorts in advance.

I'm not making a turkey, because we'll have enough of that on Thanksgiving. Instead I'm making a ham. And mashed potatoes. But I'm not confident in my mashed potatoes. I think they are okay, but they are certainly not as good as my mother's. Let's talk about the one Thanksgiving my father was allowed to make the mashed potatoes and everyone in my house complained about how terrible they were. Let's talk about how we still talk about that Thanksgiving and how horrible it was because my father was allowed to make the mashed potatoes. WHAT IF I'M MY FATHER, AND I'M TERRIBLE AT MAKING MASHED POTATOES? WHAT IF WE TALK ABOUT HOW BAD THEY WERE FOR YEARS TO COME? Anyway, give me some of your mashed potatoes secrets, please.

Oh, and Kate, I'm not really making a ham, but I hope you thought I was serious. I'm making roast beef.

But first I need to troll Pinterest for some tablescape (another word I hate!) ideas. So, if you'll excuse me...