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When Jack and I were first dating, I was a social machine. I was forever throwing parties and cooking for big groups of people. With my door-is-wide-open policy, the holidays were out of control at my house. I invited everyone who wasn't flying home to be with family to come for what I called Refugee Thanksgiving. I tended to get lots of people who either didn't have a family to go home to or who were estranged from theirs -- and together we'd reclaim the holiday (fist in air).

As a mediocre cook, I prepared things that would generate the most applause from the crowd (cough, still do). I baked my corn muffins in natural rather than cupcake liners. I made homemade applesauce, cranberry sauce, a pumpkin cheesecake or two, and tons of pies. But what impressed Jack was the way I made my sweet potatoes. It involved hollowing out oranges and filling them with my sweet potato mixture, then topping each orange with a marshmallow before popping the whole thing into the oven to melt and brown.

Anyway -- the dish clearly made an impression, because the first year Jack took me home to visit his parents for Thanksgiving, his mother brought it up, insisting I recreate the dish that he’d been "raving" about. Now, Jack's mother can really cook. So I didn’t exactly love the idea of being under scrutiny in her kitchen. But saying no would have been flat-out rude -- so I reluctantly agreed.

It quickly went downhill from there.

First, Jack's mother led me to the garage where she had a crate of oranges from one of those fruit-of-the-month clubs. The oranges were scrawny, scabby little specimens that could only hold a tablespoon or two each of sweet potato. What's more, they all had big blemishes. In other words, they were ugly. But what was I gonna do? Reject the lady's oranges? Ay, ay, ay. Next, she tried to get me to use canned sweet potatoes in syrup as a substitute for fresh ones. On this I was firm. I just said no. She was baffled and probably thought I was a little snooty and rigid. I was so uncomfortable that I'm sure I did a terrible job of articulating why.

In any case, I completed the dish in time to deliver it to the table along with the rest of the feast. A few minutes into dinner, Jack's brother served himself one of my teensy little orange concoctions, which I have to say looked particularly pathetic. In my memory, his orange had a big dent in the side and was covered with this-fruit-has-had-a-rough-life scars. He took a single bite (which was pretty much all there was to take) and said loudly, "This is it?"

If I could have crawled under the table and died, I would have. Instead, I just started laughing, and pretty soon Jack was laughing too. I mean, to the point of tears. I'm sure his parents thought we were nuts, but it broke the awkward tension, and everyone moved on to other topics.

As holiday horror stories go -- I know I'm lucky -- mine is pretty tame.

How about you guys? Have you been embarrassed/mortified/uncomfortable while visiting your in-laws for the holidays? Spill it!

Toe the line. Offering help is a nice gesture -- one your husband will appreciate -- but you don't want to look like you're trying to take over another woman's kitchen. If his mom declines your help when it comes to food, offer your services in other areas, like setting the table or keeping her grandkids busy while she's trying to get everything out of the oven and onto the table.

Okay, now really, have you ever tried peeling potatoes for 15 people? It's a nightmare. My take is this: Offer to do the dirty work. You know, the washing, the peeling, the chopping. You'll get to spend some quality time with his mom without her feeling like you're trying to go for the grand prize: basting the turkey. Oh, and don't forget to ask for the recipes after dinner -- she'll gobble it all up.

What's your take? To help or not to help?

The two of you probably have a system already worked out for when one of you gets sick -- maybe some chicken-soup-fetching is involved, or the healthy partner takes over the household duties for a while. But what do you do when the flu -- either H1N1 or regular -- throws a major curveball into your common cold routine?

Who gets control of the bed?
If you're the patient: Congratulations! We officially grant you full ownership of the bed to writhe, roll, and sweat out your fever. We've all been there, and there's no way you should have to relocate. Why? The Center for Disease Control recommends keeping the sick person away from others to eliminate any risk of contagion. Keep the room door closed and use a different bathroom. We recommend using paper towels to dry your hands instead of household towels to cut down on laundry since anything you touch while you're sick will have to be washed thoroughly on a hot setting before its sharable again.
If you're the caretaker: Do you really want to share a bed with a sneezing, wheezing sweat factory, anyway? Take the couch for a few nights! It's much easier to wash the sheets on your bed than the couch cushions, and you should be the one doing the washing, anyway. Trust us; your patient will one day return the favor.

How much babying is expected?
If you're the patient: You probably just want to curl up in the fetal position and be taken care of, but your partner's probably doing the best he or she can. Translation: stop ringing that damn bell when you run out of OJ.
If you're the caretaker: Time to step up your game and play Dr. McDreamy for a few days. Tissues, juice, and soup are in order.

Is sex okay?
If you're the patient: In a word, nope -- not even if you're feeling up to it. Here's why: you'll spread your germs.
If you're the caretaker: We know it's hard, but really, is that runny nose or wheezy breathing so hot? Really can't hold out? Wait until the fever is below 100, avoid face-to-face contact, and don't be surprised if you catch the same flu.

What about the case of the terrible tissues?
If you're the patient: Okay, we know you're sick, but don't just throw your tissues on the floor (yes, people do this). Throw those suckers away immediately after use.
If you're the caretaker: Just put a trash can by the bed!

Should I leave the house?
If you're the patient: Where exactly do you think you're going? Get back in bed! The CDC recommends that people with flu-like symptoms stay at home until at least 24 hours after they're fever-free (a temperature of less than 100 F).
If you're the caretaker: Looks like you're playing valet for a while. Put on your most comfortable sneakers, gas up the car, and get ready to run some errands. On your agenda? The pharmacy for some tissues, anti-bacterial gel, Tylenol, and anti-bacterial hand soap and the grocery store for any foods your patient requests (soup and Gatorade may be first on your list!).

Even though it sounds like a National Enquirer headline (albeit an R-rated version) this story is actually completely true. Julie Boyd dated her now-husband Mike for years. But it wasn't until their wedding night, when the couple first did the deed without a condom, that Boyd realized something was really, really wrong. Experts call the painful-sounding issue seminal plasma hypersensitivity -- which is just a fancy way of saying "sperm allergy" -- and say that it affects up to 40,000 American women.

This article did two things for me. One, it made me flinch and cross my legs. Duh. Two, it reminded me how much you can sometimes fool yourself into believing that you're really in charge of every little twist and turn in life -- you'll get married at such and such age, you'll have kids at such and such age (and yes, when I say you, I really mean me)...and then, one day, life turns around and wham! You're allergic to your husband's friggin’ sperm! Forget babies. Let's just focus on how not to be in horrible pain after every shag, shall we?

Bottom line: You just never know when life is going to throw you a sucker punch. Poor Julie (and Mike)!

Readers, have you ever head of anything like this? Or have any of you experienced anything like this?

Oh, the holidays -- don't you just love them so? We sure do, although there's one issue we want your take on. Ready? Here goes. Tis the season for get-togethers with friends and family, which means you might find yourself shacking up in a guest bedroom or two in the next month. We can't help but ask: When you're staying in someone else's home, do you go ahead and get it on, or is there a strict no-nooky rule?

C'mon, you know it's come up before. We've heard everything from horror stories of in-laws hearing you do it to a friend actually walking in on the action (awkward much?). What's your take? Of course, there's also the flip side of the coin: Would you be cool with your friends getting it on under your roof? Comment below!