7:39 a.m. Well, I'm watching the sun rise over a corn field again. This time I'm not on surveillance, though. I'm down the street from my parents' house. Which seems to be the only place I can get an internet connection.
The family reunion with the cousins was great fun.
Highlights:
I brought a certain light-haired-man to meet the family. Can I just say that I LOVE having neices? They are all 14-yrs-old and under and this man was highly fascinating to them. So much so, that they decided to give us both quizes that consisted of questions such as:
1) How many people have you kissed? (The following are my answers)
100...120 if you include family
2) Would you marry light-haired-man?
I'm sorry...your handwriting is too messy. I couldn't read this question. Tell your mother you need to work on your penmanship.
3) How much do you like light-haired-man?
4
And so on... The little darlings.
There are a LOT of kids running around...18 or so. They are like vermin. I was out in my car Saturday afternoon (the only quiet place on the property) talking on the telephone when one of the younger vermin splatted himself all over the driveway.
I look around for a responsible adult to take care of the situation, but unfortunately I'm the only option. So, I walk over and pick up the crying toddler. "There, there, kid. It's okay. Let's go find your mother." The kid is crying harder...mostly because he's wondering who the hell I am.
I hold him out away from my body and carry him over to the campfire where all of the grown ups are hanging out. I walk by a cousin who seems somewhat concerned. I tell her he seems okay and continue across the porch to where his mother is drinking a beer. She makes no move to take him from me...just looks at me with a completely blank expression. And I'm thinking, What the hell kind of a mother are you? So I say, "He fell and skinned his knee." She looks at me and says, "Oh." Oh, my holy hell.
So I sit the crying kid down on the bench next to her and he immediately jumps down and runs to the cousin I crossed paths with earlier.
Yeah. I gave the kid to the wrong mom.
Well, if there weren't pascel (wink to Cousin Jethro) of kids running around I might be able to keep track of who belongs to who...
Part of the problem is that I forget I'm an adult sometimes. For example, when my 14-yr-old neice asked if she could drive me around the field in the golf cart I thought that was a great idea. Her driving skills were really impressive. That kid would never lose her Subject in a mobile surveillance. She got the thing up on two wheels a number of times. And we even caught air while speeding through the drainage ditch.
But then when I jumped off the cart and walked up to were the adults were gathered around the campfire I quickly realized the error of my ways. I was greeted with several grim looks of disapproval. What? Is my zipper open? I look down. Nope.
I proceeded to be dressed down for letting the 14-yr-old drive the cart. For allowing her to drive like a maniac. For LAUGHING while she drove like a maniac. And for allowing the cart to overheat. (It was only smoking a little.) They took my grown up badge away and I ended up eating at the kids table for dinner that night.
More later...
12 comments:
"They took my adult badge away" - that's a good thing. IMHO
Eating at the kids table is ALWAYS more fun. A little messy, maybe, but lots more fun.
Heck! I've got 10 - 12 year old nephews driving quads through the woods!
Sounds like fun! Off to my family reunion in *counts days* 16 days.
WOW, 2 weeks!
The only way I'd attend a family reunion is if none of my relatives showed up.
I'd RATHER eat at the kids table - as long as I can bring my beer. Better conversation half the time....
Where do you get an "adult" bag. I never got one. Think
"they're" trying to tell me something?
If someone tries to give the badge back, raspberry them and glue it to their hair.
Wipe that smile off your face, soldier - you're at the family reunion now!
Hahahaha... I want an invitation to the next family reunion!!
At the kids' table, you get to make farting noises with your armpits.
Or just fart.
Oh, wait. Sometimes that happens at the grownup table, too.
Cousin Molley Sue Maurdette, chekin' in to say, that the light-haired-man, shall we call him "Ken"? He and dear sweet Polly do resemble those dolls, is not to hard on the eyes, and just as fun to chat with. As for the screamin' urchins, two of those buggers was mine, not the to the wide eyed wonder that ate the pavement, in that case I would be the bewildered idiot with the beer wondering what on earth I was supposed to do with the wailing wonder when dear Polly set him down next to me. Ah well, family reunions, they really are quite fun with Polly's Dad, the wine making expert that he is. Lots o' Love Polly dear - Love "Molly"
Well, hee haw! If it ain't Cousin Molly!
Molly sure is purty. Especially since Cousin Jeb accidentally cracked her in the head with a baseball bat last summer and that lazy eye got knocked back into place.
So how are the little locusts doing? And how is your marathon training coming along?
Sure do look forward to seeing all y'all in November...
just have to say i would have been right there with ya on the golf cart. was with my sister over labor day, and while the boys were golfing, we were sitting in another golf cart reading magazines and enjoying a bottle of wine (all classy-like with the cork floating in it, as regularly happens when you forget the corkscrew...). anyway, after a couple rounds--of golf!!! ;o), we were racing up and down the hills, trying to see how sharply you can turn in the air without flipping a golf cart. :o)
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