Thanksgiving is already a memory

and therefore, ripe to be written about.
My memoir of Thanksgiving, 2005:
It was crowded. My daughter had 18 people for dinner, two of whom showed up very late (couldn't find the house) and ate their dinners when the rest of us were contemplating dessert.
Here's the menu:
Ham

Turkey

Stuffing (both in and out of the bird)

2 kinds of cranberry sauce (my daughter loves the canned)

Green beans with bacon (you know the kind that are boiled together, so that the bacon is all limp and fatty? the only thing I didn't like)

Salad (I don't know if anyone ate any of this)

2 kinds of rolls

Creamed corn (this is frozen right out of my son-in-law's grandparents' garden and fantastic; there's some secret process that can't be revealed, although his grandmother hints that maybe she will when she's known me longer)

A relish tray with pickles, olives, etc.

Mashed potatoes. (no gravy though; we forgot about it until 5 minutes before dinner, when people were already starting to amble toward the table, and we decided to just not mention it; we hid the gravy boat, and no one asked, which was very polite of them.

Sweet potatoes with pecans and pineapple; this was supposed to have mini marshmallows on it, but when my daughter and I were warming up the things people brought, we forgot to put them on, which in my opinion is just as well.

Twice baked potatoes, made by the redoubtable grandmother, which she entrusted to me to warm up, and which I almost (but not quite) burnt. (Good thing she doesn't have a computer, since I'm trying to gain her trust in the interests of the corn recipe).

Broccoli: I made this so we'd have something green, but it was terribly overshadowed.

Homemade fudge

Chocolate chip cookies

Ginger cookies

Banana pudding (the grandmother's recipe, although made by a cousin), so popular that people had a helping of it on their dinner plates while we were waiting for dessert.

2 pumpkin pies, made by my daughter and son-in-law from my mother's recipe; this was the first time ever they'd made pies, and they came out great. The recipe was clipped out of a magazine in the '50s, and is titled "Indiana Punkin Pie."

I feel as if I ought to take a brisk walk after writing all this down. The very best part was watching my grandson eat his first mashed potatoes. He pushed the first bite out of his mouth with his tongue, took some on his hand to examine, and then put it back in, accepting future bites with equanimity.