DysFUNction

Are you related to me? Well, then you are part of the wonderful make-up of a psychiatrist dream of....the dysfunctional family. Oh to be a fly on the wall at every one of my family gatherings. Pick an individual we appear completely rational and normal, collectively we are an endless litany of FITH, (That's an affectionately coined acronym standing for...Fucked In The Head) We are a party.

It all begins in the lead up to Christmas. We start with, where we are all going to be for that time honored tradition of stuffing oneself with to much food. Mmm, American gluttony. And, depending on the year, we could be eating off of paper plates and drinking good egg nog or we might be crammed at a table with to much crap and decor, pretending to be intellectual sophisticates. Quite honestly I prefer the paper plates. I never was much for intellectual conversation. I don't think I'm smart enough to pull it off that major facade. And God knows my redneck, potato farming family sure the hell can't. Besides, they're more fun when they're normal anyway. Uhhh, mostly.

After being miserable with each other, while pretending to thoroughly enjoy the company, we move on to Christmas. Wa-hoo.....Now, you need to understand that, the majority of my family and in-laws are quite fun. People with colorful, casual personalities that are nice to be around. And then, we have the one or two that I would like to throttle on a regular basis. Your perpetual stick in the mud that sees the world in a definitive black and white. Currier and Ives. Norman Rockwell. You get the point. These enthusiastic individuals think that the world really is made up of idyllic, picturesque, Americana Art. Fuckin' Rockwell. What delusion did that man grow up in? 'Cause the world, it doesn't work that way.

(This was worth the night, don't you think?)

Christmas Eve was a wonder filled event with music and scripture and meaningful, tear-jerking stories of triumph. Blech! Please spare me the spiritual rhetoric. Jesus himself would fall asleep in the boredom. My only reprieve was a room full of people in the same quantity of pain. Thank heaven we don't care if we "ruin" it all. Some of mimicked Pavarotti in every song, some of us 'slept' and some of us, (not me surprisingly) actually dropped the 'f' bomb in frustration. Now that, is a family get together. Rife with no one who listens or cooperates! Humor people, it is the essence of life. And this year, most of my family has finally jumped on the band wagon. We have a few wayfaring souls, but hey, peer pressure and sheer numbers are on our side.

Do I sound bitter? Please, until I sat down to relay this adventure, I was in a stellar mood. The holidays were abundant. And I don't mean with material overload. I mean the good stuff. Time with good people that I cherish. Even the sticks-in-the-mud. But as I taxied some of them home on a blizzardy night, I thought to myself, 'No wonder I wanted to grow up!!!!!' The world is packed with control freaks and the rest of us are systematically poking our eyes out. I think next year I'll give the freaks a tooth brush and can of comet. They'll know what to do. And the consumption of time that is takes to complete their task will surely keep them from dampering the festivities that the rest of us make up as we go.

Ho ho ho and Happy New Year! Time to catalog the 52 weeks of MisAdventure. Our hero is headed back to "As the Pool Waves" and better still, she's gonna build a house. Oh, we are so set up for unintended catastrophe. I can feel it. I see the return of our virulent vigilante, ohohoh uhuhuh, we can call her Vera!!! (Forgive me Blondie, I couldn't help it) And I see contractors in my future, ha ha ha!! God will be checking my sense of humor. I wonder if I should start packing heat?