Ah, Thanksgiving, right around the corner. Food, drinks, football, all the ingredients that make up CW's favorite holiday (and by ownership, the official holiday of The Alt-Tab). No real surprise there, all three when mixed properly allow a catatonic like zoning out affect that magically comes around once a year. Conversation grinds to a halt, everyone fades in and out of naps, communication consists of grunts towards the television during the football games and the occasional lazy hand gesture when another helping of food is required to be passed around. Heaven.
But that's all post-meal bliss. Leading up to this once yearly state of nirvana is the family gathering, a staple of the holiday season. Most families will share traditions, recipes, exchanging of children's Christmas wish lists (there's always that one kid who aims a bit too high with their wish list much to the annoyance of family members. I can only assume in hindsight that it was me as a child, so to my immediate family I apologize), and carving of the turkey honors.
My families Thanksgiving tradition is a bit different than most I would assume. To us the holidays are a chance to get together and compete in one-upping one another with regards to medical ailments and health issues. Conversations run the gamut from pace-makers, cholesterol levels, blood sugar, hearing aids, vision, an array of surgeries, vision complaints, back pain, psoriasis, eczema, leprosy, and gingivitis. You need a medical dictionary just to get through it. The competition is for the head of the table. The worse your affliction or collection of ailments the better your seat at the table. My Grandfather has had a firm grasp on the title for years now with the aforementioned hearing aid and pace-maker, though my Mom has mounted a serious challenge this year that could make it an interesting race for the first time in as long as I can remember.
As for me, I've been stuck at the children's table long past the regularly acceptable age. Just haven't been able to crack the big leagues and gain entrance to the adult table. Sure every few years I come in with stitches or a pulled groin, but that's just child's play with this group. Nothing short of major surgery or threatening illness is going to get me to the big show. Same for the CW's brother. Biggest hypochondriac I know, comes up with a wild array of imagined illnesses and injuries each year, none of them are good enough. The adults in our family are a savvy, veteran group of the walking wounded, they see right through his fictional complaints and chuckle at his efforts.
