The most accurate definition of “family” I’ve ever heard of, courtesy of urbandictionary: insane people that mated and decided to have kids to torture and scar mentally just to keep their blood line going with that extra zest for life.
A friendly word of advice to anyone who will ever even remotely consider getting married, or has a sibling who has ever considered getting married, or has ever seen anyone who’s related to anyone who has a sibling who’s considered getting married: don’t do it. Bad idea. If you’re gonna do it, I’m sure I’ll be happy for you and all that jazz, unless you do it when your only brother has shit to do. And if you’re gonna do it when your only brother has shit to do, make sure you don’t ask him to do ANYTHING to help with the wedding or prewedding activities, and nobody else asks him to help with anything relating to the wedding or prewedding activities.. At all. He will kill you with a butter knife. Slowly.
Seriously, how hard is it to understand that a student intern has homework to do, and internship duties to complete, in NOVEMBER? Exact midpoint of the semester--not a chance this kid has anything to do except entertain us until midnight, and of course he'll be willing to start the whole routine again at 8:00 am tomorrow. Yea, he’ll love to do that every day for two weeks. Ugh.
I thought trips to California were supposed to be relaxing? Sunny all the time, seventy degrees at 10:00 at night in middle of November. Well, beginning of November, but it’s still November. I thought I’d have to entertain people for a day or two, and yes, on the day I get to look at the groom and go “HA! She’s yours now buddy!” I would, of course, be respectful and helpful and etcetera etcetera. Maybe one or two minor tasks, scattered here and there like the leaves that are never going to fall off those damn trees because it’s California, and California will always have climate and never have seasons.
I did not think I’d be staying up until 4:00 in the morning to make sure emails were sent, or that books were read, and essays were written, and paperwork was done. I did not think I’d be calling people who had already committed to coming to this—do we call it a celebration?—just to make sure they were still coming, and still knew where the opera house is, because sometimes buildings spontaneously jump up and run around, but we wanted to make sure that wasn’t the case with this particular building.
I should have expected to retell the same story four hundred and eighty seven thousand times a day, about the time I saw something I see every day, because I live in a state where pedestrians aren’t the only wildlife. And yes, I should have expected to give my unedited opinion of the Sarah Palin debacle. I love my family sometimes, but can they not see that I have apparently have to get this written, because it is sitting on my lap, and I am typing it?
On the upside, my newly wedded sister and I discovered that cutting a grapefruit in half before it hits the ground is just as much fun as it looks.