Hello Leaguers. I’ve been awol for the past 4 days because I’ve been in the Texas Panhandle at my Grandmother’s Christmas. And my Christmas, I mean my big ass family comes together to eat a shitload of food and battle. We’ve gone over this before. Pay some attention.
Let’s begin our journey, shall we?
And that’s truly where it began. After landing in Amarillo (and driving past the JESUS IS LORD TRUCK STOP–no foolin’), Grace, Damon, Adrian and I drove to Groom for the reception for a funeral.
I can feel you cringing right now in anticipation. You will not be disappointed.
You see, Groom, Texas has one of the World’s Largest Crosses, and I love love love taking pictures in front of religious monuments. Here’s one of me in front of a 20 foot Jesus in a Box. Yes. Jesus. In a box. You can see Grace reflected in the glass.
So, then this happened.
Actually a good picture. You can surely see the aftermath of the West Texas Winds in the fact that my hair is in both of our mouths.
Grace: “Adrian, you should have left your hair long and brought a sheet.” (Adrian totally looks like Jesus)
Me: “He could have signed autographs.”
Grace: *PUNCH AGAIN*
Apparently, Grace has an issue with Jesus signing autographs.
After this most aupicious start to our funeral journey, we parked in front of my Great-Grandmother’s house and waited on the reception to start. It was cold outside, so Grace put on Damon’s coat, and I got into the coat with her. Just as Adrian had zipped us both into it and we were laughing like a-holes–the hearse pulled in front of us, followed by the family car full of relatives. Adrian AND Damon both saw it coming, and ASSISTED WITH OUR FUCKERY.
I could mentally hear my grandmother yelling her favorite phrase at us, “STOP FARTIN’ AROUND.”
After making asses of ourselves at a solemn occasion, we visited with family that I haven’t seen since 1998 when my Great-Grandmother died. I knew virtually no-one anymore, and Adrian was even worse. These people remember me from 6th grade–most had no idea I was even alive, much less married. It was socially excruciating. I stayed glued to my Grandmother, offering every 12 seconds to get her something from her car. It was blessedly over within 1/2 an hour.
Upon leaving, this conversation took place with my uncle.
Grace: “Hey, can we follow you to Granny’s? I don’t remember how to get there from here.”
Uncle: “No problem. But I go slow.”
Grace: “It’s okay! I’m happy to follow.”
Uncle then tore through town going 50 through stop signs and school zones, and Grace got air with Mom’s truck at one point. Slow. His defense? “I said I go slow–through stop signs.”
STOP FARTIN’ AROUND!
After assembling our drink choices for the weekend, we finally made it to Granny’s house.
That’s where the real fun began. You’ll have to wait on that. I’m still recovering.
As an aside, Lana’s son has RSV. Please keep her family in your thoughts.