Sleepy and Turkey

Here's a tip: Never wear skinny jeans to Thanksgiving dinner. I wore my new dark-wash jeans in hopes that I would look more fit in the Thanksgiving family pictures. It was all for naught: the dining-room table hid my pants in the family portraits, and I had to unbutton my pants to sit on the couch, far from the "fit" image I wanted to project.

So here I am, thankful for the beginning of the holiday season and sleepy from the sugary yams and heavy gravy fermenting in my stomach. I knew I was in trouble when Grandma said, "We have less people than last year, but the turkey is heavier." It was a bittersweet moment of laughter.

My brother is working the 76 Fall Classic in Anaheim. Rebelling against the the warnings of Medical school tearing apart family holidays, my brother had never missed a Thanksgiving in his 7-year medical career, until today.

My brother and I usually have a contest to see who can use a punch to blow out the dinner candles. It was strange and pathetic having that contest with myself, like laughing when you're alone. And thus, Thanksgiving has been more docile this year.

But docile isn't necessarily bad. I spent some quiet time with my grandma looking at Black Friday ads. I took my dog for a nice long walk in the cold Sacramento air. Docile gives me time to reflect and be thankful for nice food and nice family.

Docile doesn't make for the most profound writing, but it's nice to sit with my grandma, watch my brother on TV, and wish the outside world a Happy Thanksgiving.