Some days the sound of my parents-by-law laughing and talking begin to grate. Yeah I don‘t mind their breathing. My mother-in-law is the worst offender for the fake laughing. Her top lip raises, showing her teeth [when she’s wearing them] and this long braying giggle comes forth. Sometimes I think she’s cultivated and then overcapitalises on what she’s “known” for. That, which is her giggle. Some people don’t know it’s a defence mechanism. When she doesn’t quite understand what has been said, as a cover-up for her shyness, or just because it’s “expected” of her.

One night while we were eating, I studied her from across the kitchen table. I forget what was on the tele but she would look over her shoulder at it and do the annoying giggle then soon as she’d turn back, the giggle stopped and the lips resumed chewing position almost instantly. She did this throughout the program. But that night I believe she was hopped up on happy pills. So I can excuse her a bit there.

Yes, there are days I crave being around quick talking people who are able to use ALL the letters in the alphabet in their proper use. I’m still working on my tolerance for hearing banded for banned and drownded for drowned. It’s bloody hard keeping the tolerance meter level when my red-headed-step-sister-in-law chimes in on the conversation. She’s a keyword cockatoo and titterer…she was banded *titter, titter*; he nearly drownded *titter*.

YeahBuddy it’s not been fun ALL the time.

Went to a family do last night. Kat, my favourite sister-in-law’s eldest boy is off to the Army or they hope he is. Me being the recluse that I wish to be was only half enthused but resigned to the fact about going to the do. On the other hand the husband was rearing to go, as proclaimed by his dress style. Baby he was in partaay mood with a capital P. Cargo shorts, thongs [here’s a hint…when it’s plural it’s fer the feet] loud shirt and panama style hat. He IS a groover yerknow.

Funny how the only attendee’s from CecilTony’s [Kat’s newest husband] side soon left after we rocked on up. But really, I can hardly blame them. I mean when you see my in-laws, husband and me coming at you. You either skedaddle or prepare to be humanised. HaHa. But really I am the most normal of the bunch, even if I don’t necessarily look it.

I guess by the grimace on their slightly horrified faces they were ready to get out of there. No doubt they had been there from the do’s beginning, whereas some of us poor people still had to get home from work. On a Sunday. Without being paid extra for working the bloody Sunday. What is up with that crap. I thought America was supposed to be the good country. Maybe if I listen to the Yanks enough I too will be brainwashed into thinking so…but still knowing better heh heh. Oh hush. I’m not dissing this fine country. But I have to admit I come from a place where yer local news does not include killings and stabbings and shootings as a hourly event and you get paid extra on Saturday and extra still for toil on a Sunday.

Anyway, so Yes, now I can say I’ve corn holed…I have, not, I’ve been. The CrankyFatBastid and I, are a formidable team at lawn games. Especially the ones you don’t have to move too much to compete in.

HappyLaborDay! I spent it out tree watching…