Life has been triple-teaming me lately (that’s not some thinly-veiled menage a trois reference, you perv), and as such, about the only social media I can manage is quick pic updates on my Instagram feed. Building a house is no picnic, but doing it in November with no heat, well let’s just say I will REALLY appreciate that kitchen! those floors! and that fire-retaining pizza oven! once it’s all over- in like 50 years.

I have been thinking of you fondly, however, especially during this time when we, as Americans, give thanks. This year I am mostly thankful that we won’t have a sociopath who wears magic underwear squatting in the White House for the next four years, and that Washington became a landmark state in ushering forth marriage equality. But I’m also thankful that I still have my old kitchen to play in occasionally while we slowly build the new kitchen and new house.

I know that many of you are planning to go elbows deep in turkey next week, and there are umpteen tutorials available online denoting just how you should handle your Tom, so I wanted to give you a lesson of a different sort. Some of you may remember this as an elementary school chant that you would perform with your index and middle fingers, but I find that driving it home with quail about to take a sous vide bath leaves more of a lasting impact. Here goes.

GOOD girls sit like this:

SOME girls sit like this:

But the girls who sit like THIS:

Get THIS like THAT:

Just to sum it all up for you:

So be careful in your short skirts at all of those nefarious Thanksgiving parties I know you plan to attend. You don’t want to end up with a cornichon in your coochee.

In case you were wondering, those quail went on to become part of this dish:

Tea-stained quail on sunchoke-buttermilk creme along with sweet potato gnocchi in chanterelle-balsamic sauce.