So, vaca with my parents is just a few days longer. I have worn them out, my kids are now tired of each other and fighting, and physically we are all exhausted. This was not a restful vacation. This was a walk, walk, look in caves, climb big rocks, walk some more, go to aquariums and museums sort of vaca.I am longing for a beach trip. I had an antisocial hissy fit earlier and spent time looking up beach rentals on my phone. One of the best things about this trip was the stories my parents told me of old kin folk. Like for instance, this old step cousin (My mom said repeatedly he was not a blood relation) on my mom’s side whose name was Junior. Junior was apparently ‘cognitively limited’ as we say in the biz. Junior would tell his family members, “don’t get in the car with me ‘less you wanna go fast. ‘Cause I go fast”.Then there were the tales of his family members ‘markin their britches’ when Junior took hairpin curves on mountain vacations. My response, “OH MY GOD, did Junior have a driver’s license?” No one knows. But he always drove. My dad’s alter ego on this trip was Junior. He did most of the driving around the mountain and Mom and I prayed to Sweet Jesus.
|I picture Junior looking like this. But not as smart.|
|Mom and the kids and I looked like this.|
Also, one of the kin folk somewhere at some time did some ancestry research and found out that my great grandfather, was half Cherokee. My dad then spent 15 minutes trying to determine if that was enough for us to get funding to open a casino. My coal dark eyes, which then were passed to all 3 of my kids, came from him. WHO KNEW?
Their father is a blue-eyed Englishman. Cherokee kicked some English ass in the eye gene pool.
There were the occasional tales of good ole boys who spent time in the state prison for bootleggin and one of an ‘no-count’ second cousin who shot her husband. Two Times. But on the third time she missed and so she only served a little while. He didn’t die after all.
Come to find out that my very proper SIL has some dirty linen in her family too. I mean this chick’s ass contracts when she blinks.
And She-it, per my parental report, her nephew and his wife smoke the reefer. Everyday. Now that’s just naughty.
As my mom said, (in a whisper because she always whispers bad things) “they smoke the marijuana”.
Uh huh. Uh Huh. Uh Huh Uh Huh Uh Huh.
Doing a little dance here.
Because you see, I was worried about being a scandal.
Because of my divorce.
I’m the first divorced person in my immediate family and I have felt mighty bad about it.
So hot damn and jubiliation, I’m not a scandal after all!
I’m just a tiny blip on the scandal radar Aunt Mae!
Because at last count, I haven’t bootlegged, shot anybody 2 times, driven without a license while stupid on a mountain road or smoked any weed (well, in a hundred years anyway).
I’m feeling better about myself already!
Except for all those crazy relatives.