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Our bags were packed and strategically wedged in the trunk of the car. The tank was full. Snacks and beverages at the ready. All that was missing was one elusive necessity—my positive attitude.

I just didn't want to go.

It wasn't that we'd be spending Thanksgiving at my in-law's (I have to say that—this is in print). It wasn't that I was using up the remainder of my vacation days. It wasn't even that we'd be driving 360 miles with nothing to see but corn stalks and road kill, only to repeat the vista on our return.

It was the Turkey Bowl. The Fifteenth Annual, to be exact, throughout which I have perfect attendance. That is, I had.

The Turkey Bowl, as my friends and I dubbed it, is the annual touch football game we started back in high school. The plan, as always, is to meet at a local park on Thanksgiving morning, play the game, then go back to someone's house for brunch and harass one another about our playing talent. It's a guy thing. The event lasts just a few hours, so we can get home early and spend the rest of the holiday with our families. Even though the time is short, it's filled with so many one-liners, I'm laughing long after the left-over turkey sandwiches disappear.

But I laugh no more—my playing days are over. And it has nothing to do with any heroic athletic injury. But rather to avoid injury—from my wife.

Let me explain. Because we live only a few miles from my family but hundreds from hers, we usually divide the holidays to make both sides happy. So if Mary Beth was denied the opportunity to see her family because of a touch football game, well, let's just say I'd be placed on permanent "injured reserve."

Our situation is not so unique. Many couples face the stressful dilemma of where and with whom to spend the holidays. Here are several scenarios and a look at how other couples make do.

With nothing but time to think during our endless interstate driving odyssey, I made the mistake of allowing my thoughts to leak out of my mouth into my wife's ears. Still steaming about the game that continues to go on even without me, I may have said, "You know, life would be so much easier if we all lived in the same town, or at least in the same area code." Of course, my wife's response went something like, "You're right. My parents should have discussed their plans with you before they bought their house, even though that was before you were born." At least she saw my point of view.

But perhaps I should be careful what I wish for. As many couples know firsthand, living near both sides of the family can create an entirely different set of problems.

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