Cloudy With A Chance Of Storm

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Archive for the category “Family”

Hearts in a jar

I shouldn’t be allowed to sit by my cousin at events where laughing is considered inappropriate. Like when we’re at a bridal shower and we’re asked to hold crystal hearts next to our own hearts and “put all our love in our heart into the crystal heart.” And then we all place our crystal hearts in a pretty glass jar for the bride to keep.
What kind of cult is this? This is my family? Holy hell.
It was hard enough to focus on transferring all my good thoughts. You know, there’s not too many.
So right when everyone is having a moment of silence to transfer their thoughts, my cousin leans over and whispers in my ear, “This must be hard for you … since you don’t have a heart.”
I suspect for our hypothetical wedding showers one day, the two of us will choose to sacrifice real chickens and keep their hearts in a box.
It’s more our style.


Welcome to the family

There’s always that one defining moment when you dare bring your significant other to a family event and hope that he or she is still dating you by the time the event is over.

I tried to avoid that moment for a long time. I’d rather risk being accused of having an imaginary boyfriend than subject him to my lunatic relatives.

But that lifestyle can’t last forever. So I picked a cousin’s kid’s 6th birthday party. People are behave at kid’s birthday parties, right?

It was a nice afternoon and we’re all sitting out on the deck having drinks and watching the kids play. My aunts are meeting The Bus and he’s holding his own quiet well. Not that I would expect anything less from him. He’s a pretty social guy.

At some point one of my aunts walks up behind him, while he’s sitting at the table having a conversation with someone else, and starts rubbing his recently buzzed head of hair. So there she is rubbing his head with both hands. He begins to have trouble continuing his conversation because he’s a little weirded out by my aunt’s rubbing. And, really, who wouldn’t be?

But, he’s a trooper. He adjusts and carries on.

Until another aunt casually walk by and, out of nowhere, yells at the aunt rubbing The Bus’s head, “you’re a real bitch.”

Que awkward silence. The Bus can’t turn around because one aunt still has her hands on his head while she fires back a quip. The two of them are going at it, while The Bus is stuck with his head in a vice grip.

So this is where every other cousin stands up, gathers their children and calls it quits. There’s a choir of “it’s time to go” and “we’re going to head out now” as everyone makes a mass exodus to the front door.

I have to wait there until The Bus gets a clean break. And then we leave. Since The Bus is the new guy, he’s doing his best to be polite. I’m just mortified and want to get the hell out of Villa de Crazy.

My words to him, “Welcome to the family. Are you going to dump me?”

He decided to hang on to me. Apparently his family has similar moments. Go figure!

A Cross Stitch Christmas

I went camping this Labor Day weekend in Bodega Bay. It’s cold; It’s dreary; It’s the perfect place for scary stories around the fire.

So I told everyone about my family.

The Bus urged me to tell the one about Christmas 2010. It goes something like this:

Each year my mom’s side of the family has a Christmas get together with a Secret Santa gift exchange. Each gift is under $40 and we draw numbers to determine the order in which we pick. Gift givers’ names are usually secret.

Except for when your boyfriend calls out in front of everyone, “Hey, is this your gift for the exchange?”

I’m thinking, “Uh yeah, that’s why I put it under the tree.” I swear, it’s like Jews know nothing about Christmas.

So once everyone knows what awesome wrapped gift I brought, the fun begins.

Now this is where we take our first break for some back story.

I had decided to make a lovely subversive cross stitch as a humorous Christmas present. You know, the type you laugh at and re-gift the following years? It had a cute red border, was in a gold frame and in black letters it read, “Don’t make me cut you.” That’s funny, right?
I paired it with a mob-like cookbook and a bottle of Chianti.

My cousin is the second to pick and he picks my gift. Everyone is watching. Everyone knows I gave this gift.

Back story break number two.

After I started making my gift, but before Christmas, there was this little unfortunate domestic violence incident involving that cousin, his wife, the cops, and a knife. I think it got blown out of proportion. I can’t really say because the story was mostly hearsay. And when I say that, I mean I heard it from my mom, who heard it from the wife. It was like the biggest secret that everyone wasn’t supposed to know in my family.

You see where this going, right?

That DV cousin picks the gift with a funny heart cross stitch that says, “Don’t make me cut you.”
I swear I didn’t see this one coming.

So instead of the rousing round of laughter I thought it would get. It was met with deafening silence. I mean I could have heard a cat fart, it was so quiet. All eyes turn toward me. The Bus, who’s in the middle of the room nearly gives himself whiplash as he turns around to look at me while loudly saying, “What the f—?” Luckily he caught himself. Although at that point he was just verbalizing what everyone was thinking.

I look to my closest cousin; The one with the same sense of humor. She is standing to my right and I say, “funny, right?”

Blank stare.

So, hopefully we see THAT present again this year.

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