I hope that all of you out there in blogger land had a nice Thanksgiving holiday. Mine was grand...full of eating, eating, more eating and finding out that I am old. Well, not so much that I am getting old (as I am the epitome of youth), but that everyone else around me is.
It was Thursday night, right after a dismal Thanksgiving feast for me (it figures that I would have an upset stomach and only be able to down one piece of turkey and a spoonful of mashed potatoes...oh, and also two pieces of pie....mmmmm.....pie....What? You don't expect me to go without pie just because I'm feeling sick, do you?) and spending the afternoon dozing, watching football, or lining up M&Ms on the floor and timing to see which dog could eat them faster (who says we're not creative), the P-Diddy clan headed down to the church for an extended family pie fest (and yes, more pie is just what the doctor ordered).
Naturally, we were the first ones there and the other family members seemed to think that it was ok to trickele in whenever they felt like it, even though they were the ones who had "planned" the event. I was upset at first but later found that getting there early led me to advantageous seating where I could observe the maladies of the clan, and let me assure you, they were plentiful.
We used to spend Thanksgiving down at Grandma's house when we were little...nearly 35 little cousins running here and there, trying to avoid the parents and any potential work. This year, those 35 "little cousins" brought their spouses and THEIR kids...one sure sign that all of us are old. The youngest cousin has just hit a whopping 20 years old...with Jared being the oldest cousin in attendance at 35.
And, if the kids are getting old, you can imagine what the parents are. Uncle Dave wandered in with a black eye and an eye patch, marking the place where he had been kicked by a cow. Uncle John, who is in need of double knee replacement limped past making comments like, "I only get 11 miles per gallon in my new Ford pickup." Uncle Mark was forced to sit on the outside of the group for fear that someone would bump him and his faulty bladder. And all of these people are 65 years old or younger.
The real fun came, however, when we started the rolled-up-newspaper-sit-in-a-row-and-try-to-hit-the-ball-past-the-other-team game (Uncle Dave, fearful of further injury to his eye, sat this one out at Jared's suggestion and Uncle Mark served as score keeper as it seems that he can still count despite his "problems"). Playing games with our family is especially entertaining for one reason: at least one of us will always cheat. This game proved to be no exception. People were hitting one another with the newspaper, grabbing the ball with their hands, leaving their chairs to get a better angle on the ball (a BIG no-no), and trash talking the other team. The highlight, however, was Uncle John, who despite his knee problems, seemed light and nimble. He was shifting his chair, guarding with his elbows, and naturally, giggling like the Wicked Witch of the West.
We were forced to stop the game after one team (not mine) reached the magical 10 point finish, mostly because it was getting too rough to continue. We packed up and everyone went home to eat all the leftovers they could find, commenting on how tired they all were.
I looked at the clock. It was 7:30 pm. Seriously. We're old.
No comments:
Post a Comment