Funny, how one's mind can work in completely different ways when one's in a different type of setting.

I'm a visual driver. Once I've driven somewhere once, I generally know precisely where I'm going and have little or no problems.

(How I navigate when I've never been somewhere is a topic for another time.)

The drive to and from the family get-togethers in Massachusetts is no problem, as I've been traveling those roads, whether in the driver's seat or as a passenger, since I was five. I don't know much of Andover or Lawrence or whatnot - hell, not even much of Middleton beyond the block on which I lived - but I know those roads.

At 5:46 this morning, however, I was playing a numbers game I'd never played before.

114. 125. 495. 93. 89. Don't trust yourself to know the turn at sight. Trust the signs.

And, for the record, I did almost miss a turn. Hey. I was tired.

Thanksgiving was a similar blur of numbers. Temperatures, times, pieces of silverware, scoops of the ice cream T had brought with him from work (which he had made himself, might I add) to accompany the variety of pies. Driving times coupled with movie start times...numbers, numbers, numbers.

And I joke that I became a writer because I was lousy at math.

But it was an enjoyable holiday, certainly worthy of the traveling that required a 5 a.m. wakeup this morning. Regardless of what else may be happening in our respective lives, Thanksgiving, like Christmas, remains consistent. There will be six of us. We'll be at my grandmother's house. My grandmother, mother and I will fuss in the kitchen trying to get everything set. Football will be on in the living room. My brother will, at some point, fall asleep on the couch. He will convince me to try eating Tofurkey. I'll give it a shot and then quickly reach for the turkey. The group will talk about the Red Sox and movies and whatever else comes along. We'll good-naturedly bicker and tease and everything will work out the same way it always does. Year after year.

They might be exasperating from time to time, and certainly as quirky as any other groups of relations you'll come across, but as I sat at the table and looked at the hub of people with whom I meet up each holiday, I had to grin.

It might be a screwy little family, but dammit, it's mine.

In other news: Go see "Rent."