Those of you who really know me realize I’m not talking about the bird. I’m one of those women who can’t cook. Every year at this time, when my family asks me this question, they’re not concerned about the star of the dinner table.

No, they want to know if my current beau is invited to the family holiday festivities.

I’m not a come-meet-the-folks kind of gal. I learned a long time ago, unless you’re ready for a few months of “what happened to so-and-so,” don’t even go there.

Not to mention that bringing someone around my family at Christmastime may affect them for the rest of their lives.

You have to love us to tolerate us. I would never let the first time someone meets my family be during the holidays, for many reasons.

First of all, dinner time is share time. We are a loud, rowdy bunch. My family loves to laugh out loud. Plus, we all talk at the same time.

You have to understand going in that it’s not rude, it’s the way we prefer to communicate, and yes, we can keep up with every conversation going on.

Next, gift time is absolute mayhem. We do not sit in orderly fashion and open gifts one at a time.

OH, NO ... we pass the gifts and tear into them! We do not save bows; we do not stand around with trash bags; we just dive in.

And third, you never know what quality entertainment may get started on the back lawn when the food has settled, the rush is over and the natives start to get bored.

We may have a cheerleader show, equipped with double stunts and cartwheels by my sister and I who are way too old for that but cannot resist. Or a concert by my nephew, who we are convinced will be a rock star one day. Or a magic show put on by my amazingly talented son.

And at least once, there was a tobacco spitting contest ... okay, less of a contest and more like a dare to “hold this in your mouth until your spit turns black without getting sick and I’ll give you $5” kind of thing, but either way I came out 5 bucks richer (hold the applause). So, you just never really know ... really.

Quite honestly, the holidays are times for me to let my hair down, cut up with my sisters and mother, be my silly Aunt BoBo self, get encouraged and walk away feeling drunk from the euphoric warmth of unconditional love and acceptance that I just can’t get anywhere else.

The holidays are my time to recuperate from the rest of the year. It’s a time for me to enjoy what is most important to me — my family. And I don’t want to share that.

I’m selfish like that.

So the answer is ... I’m not bringing the turkey this year.

Besides, it makes them all crazy when I’m dating someone but simply refuse to bring him around ... hee-hee.

Happy holidays to all!