Nov. 27, 2012 — It’s just hours before the Turkey Day Feast as my clumsy paws type this, so I’m literally taking matters into my own hands and hastily considering my new Thanksgiving resolution options right before your very eyes. I know, you’ve probably never heard of Thanksgiving resolutions before — that’s because I just made them up to help me get in the Christmas spirit a little bit sooner this year.

You see, I’ve never actually decked the halls with boughs of holly (I’d be deathly afraid of pricking myself with the thorns), and when I meet someone skipping down the street singing, “Fa la la la la la la la la,” at the top of their lungs, I’ll start running in the opposite direction as fast as my worn out wheels can carry me. I promise.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m always a little slow getting my mind, body and soul into this whole Christmas thang, know what I’m sayin’? It’s so frustrating. Aggravating, too.

I mean, by the time I finally get all revved up with a jolly, “Ho, ho, ho,” and an “On Dancer! On Prancer!” or two, it’s nearly Christmas Eve, and I have to rummage through all the picked-over remains left topsy-turvy by the scraggily, grubby old fingers of dozens, nay legions, nay hoards, of more timely Christmas shoppers. I mean, who but me would even consider purchasing a musty, mane-mangled Mofasa doll with only one eye simply because it’s the only thing left on the shelf at 11:59 p.m. Dec. 24? Well, I’m not going to be in that situation again this year, no siree. I’ve finally got this bad boy under control.

Now if I had a therapist, I guess we could dedicate ourselves to an in-depth examination of this topic during months and months of weekly sessions and eventually discover together some deep-rooted and nagging character flaw connected to my ultra-painful feelings of inadequacy arising from my unsatisfactory relationship with my mother and an extensive collection of nasty unresolved barbs of sibling rivalry that clearly punctured the inner workings of my preadolescent day-to-day life — stubborn sores that still ooze and fester quietly and unseen because I subsequently denied and repressed them so thoroughly and completely they now plainly manifest themselves through my failure to adapt in any logical or practical fashion to the obvious obligations and rigid responsibilities of this joyous annual shindig.

Whatever. The simple truth is Mom always liked my brother best. I came to terms with that years ago, so can we please move on? Thank you, very much. Besides, Dad always liked me better, anyway.

Frankly, given the impending Christmas rush, I have neither the time nor the funds for a therapist. Hey, Christmas is coming soon, and I need a Thanksgiving resolution solution right now!

So here it is. This year, when I have a big belly full of turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade bread and butter, sautéed veggies, a few greens, stuffed mushrooms, three different kinds of pie, bread pudding slathered with homemade whipped cream and a few not-so-delicate splashes of 12-year-old Scotch sloshing and gurgling around together and getting intimate with each other, I’m gonna start by making a list and checking it twice so I can figure out exactly which gifts I have to buy and for whom. No more waiting until the last minute. Nope, not this year. I’m grabbing the reindeer by the horns, by golly, and I’m finally gonna find a way to get myself in the Christmas shopping mood early once and for all this year.

Why, I’m gonna just sprawl there semi-comatose on the couch, thump my stomach hard and listen to it ring like an over-ripened gourd and think and ponder and pry my brain until I come up with the perfect gift for absolutely everyone on my list. You know, something that’s cool, but not too hip and won’t break the bank. Something that’s so special everyone’s bound to love it and wonder how could I possibly be so thoughtful and insightful this year. And once I perfect my overstuffed genius, I’m going to rise up and gather those presents way, way in advance of Christmas.

Now let me see — anybody know how many copies of Taylor Swift’s new CD I can cram into a shopping cart?

Christmas at last! Yes!