Standard

We sat around the table, a blended family, which afforded everyone the opportunity to sit in awkward silence. "Happy Thanksgiving" was trailer to the shortest, most repeated conversation of the day: "Hi, I'm (so-and-so), (so-and-so's)daughter-in-law, (so-and-so's) wife, and this is my son/daughter, (so-and-so). He's (this age). Um.. Nice to meet you, too. Happy Thanksgiving."

Of course there were the standard acknowledgements - "The turkey is so moist!"; "The corn casserole is amazing, and it's just cream cheese, corn, and green chilies? Cool."; "Who made the dressing?"; "What is this, again?" and so forth.

And the standard jokes - "I wonder if we could get away with 'Turkey Treating,' going door to door with a sack for whatever people are willing to drop in.." and, "I wonder how many houses we could walk into and just serve ourselves, where the family members would whisper in the corner about who's cousin/ex/niece we were," and for both, "How many houses could we hit before we got too full?"

I suppose this is the fairly normal Thanksgiving conversation, and I don't mean to make it sound horribly generic. There is a comfort to gathering around a table and sharing a meal as tradition dictates. I love my family, the new members - the idea that really, they're accepting me into their rituals, the ones I am just now learning. But we all secretly admit that we hope something dramatic happens - something that will bond us so that next Thanksgiving, the conversation can start with, "Hi again! Remember last year when (this incredibly dramatic, gossip worthy event) happened? Yeah. That was nuts. So how have you been since then?"

Thank God for football.