Turkey. Now there's an interesting subject. Wonder what made me think of that. Just kidding.

CNN reported that last Thanksgiving an estimated 46 million … FORTY-SIX MILLION! turkeys were consumed.

Imagine. 46 million turkeys are running around as I'm writing this — a week before Thanksgiving — and by Nov. 23, they'll all be dead meat. Actually probably at least half of them are already dead and frozen. Which makes me feel a little better. But not much.

Sarah Morley just told me that I am her one friend who she would expect to be vegan.

I really should be. My niece, Sophia, is.

I am a hypocrite. I hate the thought of killing animals for food. Hate it. Always have. How many times have I told you I can't kill a lobster. If I have some lobsters and there's no one around to throw them in the pot of boiling water, I've been known to set them free. I'm serious.

A neighbor who was working as a sternman on a lobster boat gave me two lobsters one day. They were in a paper bag. It was almost cocktail hour so I made myself a manhattan and got into my bathrobe. (ALMOST cocktail hour is close enough). I put a pot of salted water on to boil. I got butter ready to melt in my favorite little butter dish. I cut the elastic bands off the lobster's claws. I hate doing that because I'm convinced they know what it means — they won't taste as good.

The water was boiling. I took a sip of the manhattan and picked up one of the lobsters. I put it down and took another sip. I couldn't do it.

It was December, and it was snowing. I put the lobsters back in the paper bag. I put my down coat on over my bathrobe and got my Uggs and wool hat on. I took the lobsters and drove down the road to the Edgecomb Eddy. I parked next to the road and started to head down to the water. It was low tide and the rocks were covered with ice. I kept walking along the road looking for a place where I could get to the water. I imagined a cop driving by a woman walking along the road in a coat over a bathrobe. With a paper bag.

I took the lobsters back and threw them in the pot. They were good. But not as good as they are when someone else kills them.

Meat is good but killing animals to get it stinks.

So back to Thanksgiving. I love turkey. I would love turkeys, too, if I had them for pets.

Every Thanksgiving as I'm devouring that meal of roast turkey with stuffing and gravy, mashed potatoes, acorn or butternut squash and creamed onions (those are a must at any Thayer Thanksgiving gathering), and of course pumpkin and apple pies, I wonder why I don't have it more than once a year. Just because it's a tradition to have it on Thanksgiving day doesn't mean I can't buy a turkey, stuff it and roast it any time I darn well please. That way I can pig out on leftovers for the next week.

Five or six more meals of turkey and stuffing and gravy and mashed potatoes and creamed onions with leftover pumpkin and apple pie for dessert. Not to mention turkey sandwiches. OMG!

And the turkeys are always on sale the day after Thanksgiving. Hello. Cheap.

This Thanksgiving will be a first for my family. My mother is at my sister's in Fort Myers, Florida and it will be the first one without her in Maine. My brother Peter and his wife, Kerry, and their kids Wendell and Sophia, and I, are going to Cushing to our cousin Richard's. There will be other cousins and an aunt and uncle there. And it will be next door to my family cottage. Richard is a great cook, and he goes all out for these shindigs. And there will be no shortage of wine. Or manhattans. Or laughter.

Happy Thanksgiving!

See ya next week.

I’m not a chef. I lay no claim to being an authority on food or cooking. I’m a good cook, and a lover of good food. And I know how to spell and put a sentence together. This column is simply meant to be fun, and hopefully inspiring. So to anyone reading this whose hackles are raised because you know more about the subject of food than I, relax. I believe you.