We are heading to the Ancestral Awkward Abode to eat enormous amounts of food, watch the children get impossibly dirty (like summer-camp-level), and play board games with the Awkward Grandparents, who are super brains the likes of Professor X and MODOK. I'll let you guess who is which, but if you tell them that I compared them to a bald thought-peeking mutant and an evil floating head, I will deny it. You see, they won't see it; they don't have the Internet. And yes, they call it the Internet like they are time travelers who just beamed in from the Civil War. They sometimes have a dial-up connection that functions and they did buy a computer that some 13-year-old built in his basement around 1985, that occasionally works, but mostly, they are totally off-line. I think my father's contention is that when you have enough books to rival the Library of Congress, you don't need to mess with a little electric box that mostly contains porn, videos of cats, and this. (Number 2 looks like something Super P. wrote in school yesterday.) I suppose Awkward Grandpa has a point, so we are going off-line for the duration of our battle with Thanksgiving, which kinda bites as I am sure I could have streamed it and made some money. The Trivial Pursuit rumble alone is going to be a blood-bath.
Enjoy your feasts, Readers; we are thankful for all of you! Remember, keep it awkward enough to be interesting and civil enough to still get together in 34 days for Christmas!
34 days......you're joking. Wait, you can't really be serious.