You Can't Pick Your Family But You Can Pick Your Category

I know the calendar shows the middle of July, but I have begun my Thanksgiving preparation. Not for the meal, not for the guest list. For the quiz. The Fourth Annual Harvest Home Cornucopia of Knowledge Bowl, to be specific. This is a tradition older then the name implies. And it has not been limited to Thanksgiving Day, either. Another event that has had a quiz as part of its celebration is that other American day of gluttony known as Super Bowl Sunday. We have played The Super Bowl Day Super Bowl of Super Knowledge Bowl, Bowl. (God, I'm annoying)

Still, it is on Thanksgiving Day that the quiz is mandatory. In years past, it took the form of a Jeopardy!-like game with daily doubles and a final question. Last year we moved to a PowerPoint format on a laptop connected to our TV, with the teams having to fill in a written test. For those asking, "Does this Moose not have anything better to do?" or "Do you have too much time on your hands?" The answers are, respectively, no and yes.

The reason for the format change is a simple one. My baby brother—and when I call him that, it is only coincidence that he is the youngest of the siblings—acts like a total infant when we play this game. Or any game, for that matter.

He finds fault with every question, every answer, every teammate, every competitor. He makes the playing of the game such torture that people try quitting in mid-question. For years, he insisted that we buy an electronic buzzing system because he was being cheated. When my kids were smaller, he would be admonished that he was "acting like a child." Now, the kids find this statement insulting to them. At the end of last year’s game, the family and quite a few guests voted to keep him out of future contests. This movement was led by his own wife. Whether or not it can be enforced remains to be seen.

But perhaps I've said too much. And since he is a regular reader of this blog, I'm sure he will tell me if I've said too much. Though after all of this venting, I can honestly say he is not the reason I need to start working in July on a late November event. It was a guest.

Now before I tell you what happened and you ask, "Is this Moose too thin-skinned?" let me state my case. I shop for and cook the Thanksgiving meal. I try to make sure that every special dish request has been met. This can include three different homemade cranberry sauces, two different stuffings, three different potatoes, etc. Yet, with all this on my plate, I make sure the quiz is ready, historical, accurate, entertaining, fair and fun for everyone.

Under the new format, many "issues" were resolved. I said to my wife, "This year there will be no trouble." She laughed, shook her head, and walked away mumbling, "You're dreaming."

She was, of course, right. Though everyone agreed all the problems had been dealt with, my brother still made a scene.

Then in mid-quiz, a guest said, "I see that the background for all your slides are identical, that shows a lack of creativity, doesn't it?"

Was she really questioning the aesthetics of a test? Did she not take issue with the content, the format, the accuracy? Was her complaint really about the color of the backgrounds? Sadly, yes. And then she ate my food.

So this is why I'm working on the quiz in July. I have already dealt with all the inequities of the quiz, so now I'm going to make sure that each slide is an individual masterpiece. This year, there will be no problems. I guarantee.

As for my brother, he is on notice: When I'm done with the “Sistine Chapel" of PowerPoints, I'm going to start on the guest list. He has just over four months to prove he's changed.

As for the other guest, Hungry Man makes a nice turkey dinner.