By Karen Bergreen and Cynthia Kaplan

Thanksgiving is upon us! What are we thankful for? For you, dear readers. Also for Trader Joe’s Ridged Potato Chips, Murray’s smoked salmon, and the Town Shoppe’s bra ladies who check your bra size like they’re sorting Idaho potatoes. We’re grateful for Orwashers’s Ultimate Whole Wheat Loaf and Drake’s Coffee Cakes, which are still a quality product. We are grateful for dogs and some cats and we are VERY grateful that slouchy pants are back. We will return in two weeks with our regularly scheduled ingratitude.

Dear Ruthless,

My daughter is inviting a pregnant-with-twins friend to Thanksgiving dinner. Back story: She has a baby daddy and did IVF with him; they are now estranged. She’s due in mid-December and has gained less than 15 pounds during her pregnancy. She is planning on having a C-section but doesn’t have it scheduled. She doesn’t have anyone lined up to take care of the babies when she is recovering from her surgery or to help her care for the babies, generally speaking, nor does she have a pediatrician lined up or baby equipment (stroller, crib, etc). I’m not supposed to talk about any of this during Thanksgiving dinner. I have a limited filter. Help!

Signed,

Busybody

Dear Busy,

CINDY: For God’s sake, don’t make a very pregnant woman seem nuts in public. This woman sounds a little lost, maybe in denial, or just overwhelmed, perhaps as the result of the break-up. I would honor your daughter’s request and not embarrass her friend during dinner. Maybe you and your daughter could sit down with her at a later date and offer her some support. 

KAREN: This is why God invented alcohol. 

Dear Ruthless,

I’m a big baker, known among family, friends, and neighbors for my goodies. I’m always happy to share my tasty treats, BUT my precious storage containers are never returned. I’m talking about the high-quality, durable, air-tight ones. Can I ask people to return them?

Signed,

Blowing my (snap-on) top!

Dear Blowing,

KAREN: People suck. Share via Ziploc.  

CINDY: I’m known for my delicious gluten free brownies that I make from a box mix. I write my name in Sharpie on my containers SO THERE’S NO MISTAKING THINGS. Also, at the end of the party, before I say thank you to my hosts, I go into the kitchen, wrap my leftover goodies in their tin foil, and take my lovely containers. 

Dear Ruthless,

There’s a couple in our building who seem nice and we have pleasant conversations when passing in the lobby or on the sidewalk. They host a monthly book club and always manage to mention what they are reading. The books all seem to us to be overly academic and honestly, just no fun. They just invited us to join the club, and we really don’t want to but don’t want to insult them. 

Signed,

Illiterate Neighbors

Dear Illiterate, 

KAREN: Tell your neighbors yes and that you suggest reading Bridges of Madison County for their next selection. 

CINDY: Go to one and bring your dog and a plate of cheese. If your dog is anything like Otis, you won’t be asked again. 

Dear Ruthless,

I run a small business out of our apartment. I worked at home while raising the children and finally, now that we have an empty nest, can enjoy the quiet during working hours. My husband just told me he would like to retire. I love my children and adore my husband but I just got my life back! I don’t want him hanging around the house, looking for things to do and disrupting my newfound peace. What do I do?

Signed,

Finally Alone

Dear Alone,

CINDY: As a writer I work at home as well. Just before the pandemic my husband changed jobs, and there was a several month break between the two. He was constantly interrupting my flow with questions and comments and asking me things like what was I going to have for lunch. I finally told him not to speak to me or even put himself in my line of sight between 10 and 5. If he needed something, he could text or email me like a normal person. As far as I’m concerned, he’s never retiring. I would suggest you set parameters around what your husband perceives will be his home life, and perhaps he will rethink the whole idea.

KAREN: You could sign him up for a semester abroad or apply him to medical school. 

Dear Ruthless,

I love your column and WSR, but what do I do if I live on the Upper East Side?

Signed,

Cindy’s Mother-in-Law 

Dear Cindy’s MIL,

Karen: Move.

Cindy: Don’t Move.

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