This Thanksgiving has been the first in a very long time that I have been with family, and by family I mean extended family. Technically, I was there last year, but only for about 15 minutes between the airport and the beach, and there weren’t nearly as many people there. This time, however, there were a record-breaking 26 people, some of whom I hadn’t seen since they were born, and some of whom hadn’t even been born the last time I’d seen their parents. It’s always a fun family time when you have to ask what certain children’s names are, who are their parents, if they’re still married, and if they’re both here.

Probably the weirdest part of it was seeing the younger cousins that I do know, all grown up. I’ve seen them each in person probably more than a few times since I left home, but over a period of about ten years. I remember them all being born, and I can picture them as little people, and now they’re all real people, all but one with drivers’ licenses and Facebook accounts.

And on top of it all, I have no idea what anyone is talking about anymore. I’m familiar with the language being used around the table, but if I want to get into a conversation I have to ask for context and characters. This requires effort, and as we all know, Thanksgiving is the holiday where effort translates to getting the turkey into the face, repeat ad infinitum, and anything more than that is overdoing it. Wow, that sounded so lazy.

After the meal, though, we all settled into the living to bond over Sharknado 2.

Nothing says Thanksgiving like a one-armed Tara Reid, I guess.