DEAR MISS MANNERS: Urgent before Thanksgiving: I just bought a beautiful soup tureen, but am ignorant of how to serve from it. Does it go on the dining room table, in front of the hostess' place? On the sideboard? In what order are the guests' plates filled?

GENTLE READER: Ahhh.

That soft sound you hear is Miss Manners sighing happily with the feeling of warmth and hospitality that the mere words "soup tureen" conjure. The jolly, pot-bellied shape, the shining porcelain, the escaping steam, the tantalizing odor....

What's that? Oh, you want to know where to put the silly thing. If there is room on the table in front of the hostess, the sight of her serving could be charming. If she has to lean over and dribble the soup across the table, the sideboard would be a better choice.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I attended an afternoon potluck put on by a community charity group. We live in a small town, and most of the approximately 50 people there knew each other at least in passing.

After lunch, the host announced we would break into teams for group games. He chose four organization members to be the captains. One of the captains asked if he would be allowed to pick his own team, and the host readily agreed with that.

Due to memories of being the last one picked as a child, I wanted to object to this methodology but couldn't think of a polite way to do it. The team captains then took turns choosing their favorites and sure enough, I was the last one picked.

I can assure you it was no less humiliating and painful as a 28-year-old than it was when I was 9. Was there any polite way that I could have suggested a different way?

GENTLE READER: You could have spoken up when the suggestion was made, saying, "Wait a minute! I was always picked last when I was a child." (At this point, you may be sure of a chorus of voices saying, "So was I.") "How about this time you pick the worst players first, so I don't have to go home and cry?"

What Miss Manners is recommending is a skill adults must acquire -- the ability to make a joke, or in some cases a novel, out of childhood embarrassments.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I had the opportunity the other day to make dinner for my partner's parents upon their arrival from a 12-hour travel day. While the dinner took awhile to make, it turned out very well. The problem is that it was a recipe I had never tried before; my partner told me that her grandmother had said it was never OK to make a meal for the first time for guests, that one should always try it first. While I didn't get in trouble, of course, I am curious as to the validity of this way of thinking.

GENTLE READER: Ask her if Grandma is familiar with the saying "The proof is in the pudding."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: For several years, my significant other has said that, when a group of people are dining together, the conversation is foremost.

Therefore, she says, whenever someone starts talking, good manners dictate that everyone else should stop eating and put down their forks, and she says we should do this even if no one else does. (At least she has the good manners not to inform the others of this supposed requirement when we are dining with a group.)

I keep telling her that her idea about dining etiquette is ridiculous. If there is continuous back-and-forth conversation and everyone did as she thinks they should, nothing would get eaten and the food would eventually get cold. (The picture comes to my mind of everyone's silverware being put on their plates in clicking unison whenever someone starts talking and being picked up again in unison when that person stops talking, with the process repeating when someone responds to the previous speaker.)

I can't get her to understand that her idea has no basis in the rules of etiquette. Am I right in this? What say you?

GENTLE READER: Where did she get that rule? From a list headed "How to Kill a Dinner Party"?

Not only would the food grow cold, but so would the conversation. Can you imagine yourself making an amusing little observation to your dinner partner, only to look up and see all those staring, hungry eyes?

Please tell the lady that the rule forbids talking with your mouth full; it does not forbid listening with your mouth full.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: According to my dictionary, a lady is described as: 1. originally, a woman of authority over a house or an estate, of the same rank as a lord; 2. a well-bred woman; a woman of good family or of high social position; a gentlewoman.

Please advise me, has the definition of a "lady" changed so that a female addressed as such should be offended? Just recently, this happened in my presence. The female addressed is most certainly highly regarded -- as on a pedestal (the highest respect).

GENTLE READER: But she was no lady.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: This year I will be hosting a rather large Thanksgiving dinner for family. My sister-in-law will be bringing her boyfriend, who is vegetarian. I had planned on offering several vegetarian options, as I want him to feel welcome.

My sister-in-law informed my husband they preferred that no meat be served, but if we insisted, could we make sure not to cook meat/nonmeat items in the oven at the same time, and could we refrain from ceremoniously carving the turkey at the table? How should I handle this request?

GENTLE READER: With the firm conviction that you are graciously attending to the needs of a guest by making sure that he will have enough to eat, and need not let him take over the running of the household.

You might also suggest to your sister that Thanksgiving, with its food rituals, may not be the best holiday to which to bring the gentleman. Should he become a member of the family, Miss Manners would think your sister-in-law would want to hold family Thanksgiving at their house, where they will be in charge.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: Many times, I will find myself in a group of people including a very young child or a very elderly person.

In an effort to engage either this junior or senior person in conversation (thinking I might be able to glean some wisdom from the older person), I will ask them some simple question.

Invariably, some well-meaning "buttinski" in the group, usually a parent or relative, will interrupt with an "I know, I know" answer to the question, appointing themself spokesperson for this individual, mindlessly pontificating and being oblivious to the fact that I'm not really looking for an answer to that simple question; I'm just trying to get this youngster or oldster to talk a bit.

How do the parents of young kids ever expect their kids to develop the art of conversation when they never let them answer for themselves, even if it's to the simplest of questions that they may happen to know the answer to?

How do I gently prepare the buttinskis of the world in advance so they don't feel free to jump in with answers to the simple questions I use to try to talk to a child or old person?

GENTLE READER: And what do you think?

No, Miss Manners is not shirking her job here by using that clever therapeutic technique of throwing the question back to the questioner so she can get back to woolgathering.

Rather, she is suggesting that after the wrong person has answered the question, you turn again to the person you had asked and repeat it. What you are doing is charming and important, and Miss Manners hopes that the repetition will not only begin a conversation but make your point to the person who tried to thwart it.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I had a conversation with a friend that has left me in a guilt-stew all day long. She and her 17-year-old daughter are coming to my house for Thanksgiving. None of us wants to cook, so we decided to order a commercially prepared Thanksgiving meal. The price came to $100-plus, and I said, "We're splitting this three ways, right? You're paying for you and your daughter, and I'm paying for myself."

Her response indicated that this was a surprise to her, as I am her daughter's "Auntie" Alice. I'm thinking, "And so?" What am I missing?

The girl and I are not close like family, though we get along well when we're in each other's presence. I rarely sign birthday cards "Auntie Alice" because Ijust don't feel like an aunt, and she doesn't call meanything, I'm assuming to avoid the Auntie label hermother applied to me.

She and her mother live about a three-hour drive away so we don't see each other frequently, and I never call the daughter nor she me. I might forward a funny e-mail to her, but that's aboutthe extent of our relationship.

Why do I feel guilty?! What I'm really asking is what did the situation call for?

GENTLE READER: You feel guilty because squabbling over money with guests whom you have invited to your house does not exactly come under the definition of What Thanksgiving Means to Me. Miss Manners suggests that in honor of the occasion, you let it go, saying graciously that you will allow your friend to get the bill next time.

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