The blending of families is a peculiar thing. Here we are, once again, at the epicenter of mixed family togetherness. Can you feel the earth shake?

Not that it's anyone's fault. The most lovely of in-laws — be it sister-, father-, daughter-, mother-, son-, cousin-, grandparent- or super-weird great-step-uncle- — still bring their own upbringings, beliefs, agendas and traditions to the traditional turkey dinner. Like, by serving Spam instead. (Careful; Santa knows if you spit your meal into your napkin!) Navigating this time with extended family can sometimes feel like navigating your way through a foreign country. Everyone speaks a different language, and the only translator is that sign language guy from Barack Obama's Nelson Mandela tribute.

The first time I met the fine people who would become my in-laws was right before New Year's Eve. Their son and I were in such early stages of dating that we weren't yet referring to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. Yet there I was, meeting the folks. Being welcomed into his family traditions. Family traditions that came from Pennsylvania Dutch upbringings. Family traditions that included sauerkraut.

Lots and lots of sauerkraut.

Apparently, one bite of the fermented cabbage ensures good luck in the new year. The woman who became my mother-in-law urged me to have a bite.

I declined.

She insisted.

I held my ground.

It's not that I don't like the taste of sauerkraut; I do. It's not that I wanted to be rude; I didn't. But at that moment, I had a far more pressing concern that overrode the delicious smell of sauerkraut, my desire to please my not-quite-boyfriend's mom and the prospect of a year of Pennsylvania Dutch-certified good luck: my breath.

Those days, all I wanted to do was make out with my kinda-sorta-boyfriend. Lock lips. Tie tongues. Swap spit. But I couldn't exactly say that to his mother. "Sorry, lady. The food smells delish, but even a whole container of Altoids can't knock out that stank, and I've got an appointment to stick my tongue down your son's throat."

I did the only thing that made sense at the time. I lied. I told her I didn't like sauerkraut. To which she said that I might like hers. "Try it." For the next 10 minutes, we played out the script of Dr. Seuss' "Green Eggs and Ham" — only I didn't give in at the end. My kissing constitution is strong.

That was 10 years ago. I have since tried to say that I do in fact like sauerkraut. I would like it on a boat. I would like it with a goat. But my mother-in-law thinks I'm just being nice.

The in-law language barrier goes far beyond silly lies like mine. Spoken truths are often confused and misunderstood. We jump to conclusions, interpreting the words as if our own family member had said it, because, after all, aren't we family now?

Over the summer, I attended the wedding of a cousin whom I love like a brother. I was chatting with a breast-feeding bridesmaid in the bathroom about the gorgeous ceremony, when the mother of the bride came in.

"It was so beautiful, wasn't it?" the bridesmaid said.

"Meh," replied the mother of the bride.

My ears perked up. Excuse me? Meh?

"Really? I loved watching every second of it," I said.

"I mean, it's nothing I haven't seen before," said the mother of the bride.

I was appalled. My beloved cousin had just inherited a witch of a mother-in-law. I was about to storm out of the bathroom, when I heard the nursing bridesmaid say, "But you haven't seen your daughter get married before."

"What are you talking about?" asked the mother of the bride.

"We're commenting on how beautiful the wedding was," said the bridesmaid.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were asking me what I thought of your breast-feeding. It's fine, nothing I haven't seen before. But yes, the wedding was very beautiful."

Glad I stuck around. And maybe that's the lesson in all of this. Always stick around for the clarification. Then decide whether to be offended.

On Thanksgiving, I Facetimed with my family. There was my cousin with his lovely new wife, sitting around as everyone played "Guitar Hero." I wondered how she would interpret our family's — her new family's — take on "family togetherness." Not great. But probably better than if someone outright refused to eat her home-cooked sauerkraut.

Good luck, everyone.

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. Check out her column at http://didionsbible.com. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.