We Swing From Bent Branches

Today my 4 year old granddaughter, Elle, painted her left eyebrow with pink fingernail polish. This is not an oddity in my family tree. We swing from bent branches. Elle is just getting started. I tremble to think of what the future holds for her.

I received an email request today to confirm that I am the father of Scott, my oldest son. He joined a web based "family tree organizer." I admitted that we are related. And now I am a member of the web based family tree organizer as well. They tell me that nothing on the web is truly hidden. Once you put something on the web it is there f-o-r-e-v-e-r. So think before you post, boys and girls.

And since that is a fact, Jack, I thought I'd go ahead and tell you about some of the more interesting twigs in our tree. Perhaps then you will understand why I act ADHD, suffer from PTSD, and am addicted to HFCS. The following people drove me to it.

First there is my brother. His name is Jim. He just got a new hat. A friend gave it to him. It's a "pre-sweat-stained" cowboy hat. He likes it that way. Pre-sweated. The company that made the hat offered to put a bullet hole in it for a small extra fee. I offered to put one there for free. He declined.

Then there is my wife, Debbie. You remember her. She's the one that told the Canadian Border Guard that asked us where our destination was when we were entering his country, "Canada." I found it much funnier than he did.

Kelli pops up next. She is very normal. Not an odd bone in her body. One day half of her lifetime ago she bounced into my kitchen with a carry-out bag from Taco Bell and the news that she had just gotten her first "road kill." We smelled it before she even said it. A skunk. She was doused in his sweet revenge. When asked what she did when she saw the skunk she replied, "I just closed my eyes and kept on driving." See. Totally normal.

Scott. The name sounds rock solid, doesn't it? He's intelligent and seldom screws up. He has a blog site too. It's dedicated to "Snow Mounding." He waits until a heavy snow falls and the plows push it into big piles and then he climbs the piles, has his picture taken, and posts it along with the longitude, latitude, and altitude. Nothing odd about that, huh?

Christopher is the youngest of my off spring. I could dedicate an entire blog site to his antics over the years. Problem is, you'd never believe me. Let's just say that once upon a time he had his friends duct tape him to a stop sign so that he could see what people would do when they drove up. The first car on the scene was a police car. Did I mention that he believed until he was in his early twenties that our admittadly brilliant Golden Retriever was writing to him in poop in his dog run? Oh, and he seldom wears pants. Christopher's branch is exceedingly bent.

Kelli married Joe. Joe is totally normal. Except, of course, that he use to hold the windshield wipers of an old van he drove on with rubber bands. We all do that now and then.

Scott married Amanda. She is such a sweet soul. She works helping homeless women find a home. And she eats fried pickles coverd with "Devil's Spit." They say it's a sauce. I say it's a punishment.

Christopher married Laura. She is the one that makes our family sleep better at night, knowing that because of her Christopher is well cared for. Laura is about 5'4, weighs maybe 110 pounds, and can out belch any sailor you've ever met. She kept the car running for me one night while I lay the Christmas gift of a half eaten ham on the front porch of "a church official," rang the door bell, and ran. In other words ... Laura drove my get-away car.

Paisley is Kelli and Joe's other daughter. Elle dropped to one knee and proposed to her a couple of weeks ago. Paisley screamed and threw a ball at her. She's only 18 months old and, I suppose she figured that was too young to be getting married.

Judah is Christopher and Laura's son. He's only 6 months old and hasn't done anything wrong. At least not that I know of. I'll ask him later. Right now Christopher is nursing him.

This is my family and I am proud. (More family introductions to come. Be afraid. Be very afraid.)