Can I Panic Now?

Murphy knew what he was talking about: "If anything can go wrong, it will" and "If everything seems to be going well, obviously you've overlooked something."

My best friend agreed to host Thanksgiving dinner this year. Why not? She's got a huge, beautiful Victorian home, she's a holiday decorating fiend, and she honestly enjoys entertaining. (For the record: If entertaining requires effort, I'm not in favor of it. People are welcome to visit my cottage, comfortably appointed in what designers lovingly call "eclectic sty," as long as they're self-sufficient.)

Just a few minutes ago, Friend called. "Are you sittid dowd?" she wheezed into the phone.

I wasn't, but based on what passed for her voice I assumed the position.

"I've beed in dedial for a week [hack, cough], but I cad't hide adybore."

"Oh no! You sound really, really sick. Are you all right?"

"Ndo."

"Do I need to do Thanksgiving over here?"

GAH! What had I done? If I could have kicked myself, I would have.

"Gould you? I really dod't deed to be servig people food."

She was right, of course. Typhoid Mary didn't need to be rubbing shoulders with the masses, either.

"Sure. No problem. You just get better. We'll send you a plate of food."

What am I going to do? I have no yams! I haven't finished baking the desserts! Fortunately I have potatoes and stuffing ingredients on hand, and others among the six guests who will be showing up at 6 p.m. will bring the turkey, rolls, green beans and ... well, whatever else they were planning to take to Friend's.

We'll all gather on the floor among the dust bunnies and dog fur and eat with our hands off paper plates. It'll be fun.

I hope someone was assigned to bring copious amounts of alcohol.

Fortunately, Thanksgiving is about gathering with family and friends to share good food and good company. Our feast, while decidedly untraditional in its informality this year, still will embody the spirit of the season.

May all of your feasts be equally as heartwarming.