Each week, Miss Manners answers questions exclusively from the MSN audience on all of your etiquette dilemmas. (Have an issue you want help with? Send in a question today or talk about your own problems on our Miss Manners message board.) Read on for this week's hot topics:
Dear Miss Manners,
As a college student, I come back home during my vacations to visit. It's absolutely wonderful to see my parents again, and I really enjoy it. However, there's one small thing. When I was little, I used to really like a certain dish. Now, whenever I come home, my parents make a special point to make that dish every single time. While I appreciate their efforts, I really dislike it now; sometimes, it makes me feel sick. How can I let them know -- politely and without hurting their feelings -- that I don't want to eat it anymore? So far, I've been grinning and bearing it, but I don't know how much longer I can keep it up.
Gentle Reader,
Please forgive Miss Manners' sentimental smile at what a sweet problem this is. Well, maybe not for you when you are gagging. But surely you appreciate the nostalgia-tinged love that prompts your parents to continue this little ritual.
Before your next trip home, let them know that you are longing for [here name whatever dish your mother likes to cook that you can stand] which has replaced the other as your new favorite food.
*******
Dear Miss Manners,
I really would like to know what is the proper thing to do with your napkin when you must leave the table for a few minutes? Is it correct to put it on the chair where one sits or just leave it on the table? If table is correct, then how nicely should one leave it? How will the waiter know not to clean up and remove the dishes?
Gentle Reader,
The etiquette is the easy part. When leaving the table temporarily, you put the napkin on your chair; when finished eating, you leave it next to your plate, not refolded but not messily scrunched, either. The hard part is when the sanitary police come after you, as they do whenever Miss Manners cites these rules. They come up with a revolting progression that they expect germs to make from a previous diner to the chair to the napkin and then back to the current diner when he again uses his napkin. Miss Manners would prefer not to hear about it, but feels obliged to suggest, just in case, that you not stuff your napkin into your mouth.
Judith Martin's latest book is No Vulgar Hotel: The Desire and Pursuit of Venice. She is also the author ofMiss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior (Freshly Updated). She and her husband, a scientist and playwright, live in Washington, D.C. They have two perfect children, of course.
