Recently, I came across a copy of Woman’s Day “Best Ideas for Christmas” magazine, published in 1976. It features recipes like Avocado Ring with Crab-Meat Dressing, as well as an assortment of holiday craft ideas (never underestimate the versatility of a paper towel roll).

This originally cost $1.10. I paid $2. Inflation is the worst.

One of those crafts was a paper bag cornucopia. I guess since American Thanksgiving is so close to Christmas, the Woman’s Day editors figured they’d kill two birds with one stone. Or is that two turkeys?

Here’s the spread, complete with a diagram.

According to the internet, cornucopias date back to Greek mythology and were made with actual goat horns. Sorry, Zeus, but you won’t be seeing that on my Thanksgiving table. LOL! But I thought a paper bag version seemed environmentally friendly and I could only imagine the ooos and ahhs of my guests when they found out who had lovingly made the cornucopia resting in front of them.

Finding paper bags was easy as they’re everywhere these days. As a child of the seventies, I get nostalgic seeing grocery stores using paper bags again. Here’s hoping they also bring back Mug-o-Lunch.

To make your cornucopia, take a paper bag and scrunch it into a point at the bottom and secure in place with tape. Then fold back the open lip by about two inches.

I’m about to go on a dark, dark journey.

Next, cut long strips of three-inch-wide paper and place some strips of newspaper inside. Fold over and glue the three-inch strips to create “ropes,” which you wind around your paper bag, gluing it down and shaping the bag as you go.

I'm coming in at hour four by this point.

A word of caution: Like any work of art, this cornucopia takes a long time to make, especially when wrapping the ropes around the bag. It’s a good test of your patience as well as making you question why you’re spending a Sunday evening making a paper bag cornucopia when there are so many other things you could be doing. I recommend keeping a gin-and-tonic within reach.

I could say what this looks like. But I try to keep it classy.

After several hours, you’ll have your paper bag cornucopia. Now all that’s left is to fill it with nature’s bounty.

Now that I consider it, “cornucopia” sounds like some kind of foot condition – and how festive is that? So I’m renaming my masterpiece a “horn-o-hopia” because who couldn’t use a little more hope this holiday? You could also call it a “horny-hopia,” but I’d wait until the relatives go to bed before you bring that version out.

You can also paint this grey and call it an elephant head.

There are several things you can do with your horn-o-hopia following Thanksgiving. Flip it on its end and use it as a witch’s hat for Halloween. Or give it to an elderly person to use as a hearing aid. Whatever you do, please don’t put your horn-o-hopia in the dishwasher.

Regardless of how you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope your horn-o-hopia is overflowing all year long.