So, Thanksgiving has passed and the dishes are finally done. We had some wonderful guests join us and were having a delightful time right up until one of them introduced a topic of discussion that left me with cold chills and icy thoughts.  He suggested we go around the table and share the memories of our past Thanksgivings.

Of course, I first pictured the many food fights, drunken speeches and puking at the table stories from my children's youth that would no doubt be recounted in glorious and graphic detail. Sure enough, they came rolling out amid much laughter and merriment - particularly the "Mom's Sweet Potato Recipe" story.

I froze, after all, these were people we loved and respected at our table and what in the world would they think after hearing this particularly telling story? I mean it had all begun innocently enough . . .

My mother had called as we were fixing dinner and by the time the conversation was finished I had hung up on her mid sentence and begun contemplating using the electric knife to carve through my wrists, or sticking my head in the oven with the turkey. Instead I opted for a few more glasses of wine and continued fixing dinner. By the time I started the sweet potatoes I had opened a second bottle of wine and was feeling much better about life. The potatoes were mashed and creamed and ready for me to add the marshmallows for taste. I picked up the bag which, unknown to me, was fully open.  I held it up by the bottom and promptly dumped 3 quarters of the bag straight into the pot. I commented "Oooops!" louder than intended and all of the kids came to see what happened and nearly choked to death laughing at me. With no other choice I went ahead and stirred in the large portion of marshmallows and then without thinking, topped the whole thing off with the rest of the marshmallows for serving.

After dinner (and another glass or two of wine) I announced I needed to lie down for a few minutes before cleaning up - I promptly passed out and didn't come to until they were watching Frosty the Snowman on television and waiting for me to have some pie.

It turned out to be the favorite dish of the day - and the most retold story of my life!  The kids tell all of their friends each year and share it at gatherings like we had this year. I admit the more I hear it the more I laugh as well. And I know why my kids are always offering to refill my wine glass all day too!!