I’d like to think I’ll remember this past Thanksgiving. It was a good memory making time.

To be honest, they haven’t all been so hot.

There were the years I had to work, or my husband had to work, or it was us and our daughter….the three of us and a turkey, far away from family.

There were years I was sick and it didn’t feel like a time to celebrate.

There were years we invited “newsroom orphans” to our table; those who couldn’t get home.

There was the year I decided to make sweet potato casserole without the marshmallows and my husband had a meltdown at the table. (That one was classic and started the “only Phil makes the sweet potato casserole” tradition.)

Still, it makes me realize how far we’ve come; through hard years, lean years, exhausted years.

This year our sink clogged. We laughed.

I filled the house with smoke and set off the smoke detector trying to bake the turkey at 450 degrees. (Worth it. It turned out great.)

We squeezed 13 people at a table meant for 8 and it was…well, pure joy.

And best of all, my husband documented it this year so I can’t forget this one.

If your Thanksgiving was less than perfect…well, it goes that way sometimes.

You don’t always get Norman Rockwell moments.

Still, every once in awhile you do. You get some “serve it again” memories, the ones you want to relive. Memories are the best leftovers. Even the bad ones can make you laugh later…trust me on this.

Don’t forget to document them, the good, the bad, the fire that burned up the kitchen so awful memories.