I love my blood relatives, my kin. I love the in-laws. I love 'em all, big and small, and that is really funny when you know our families. My immediate family members are almost all over 6 ft, and the in-laws are 6 ft when you stack three or four of them on each other like Fisher Price blocks. In our wedding picture, my three brothers look like they should be named Nephilim, Emim and Anakim for the biblical races of giants. So in this wedding pic, my brothers appear to be visiting the land of the Lilliputians, my in-laws, and someone stopped the momentous event to snap a picture.
Just to prove my point, here is my brother, whom I'll call Donnie, hefting some of my sisters-in-law.
Ha. I am so immature. Kidding about this picture, but not about the height difference.
Anyway, having clarified how much I love my family, I would just like to report that my father-in-law has got to be stopped. He has a ring tone that goes off at the most inappropriate times you can imagine. The ring is a marching band playing a New Orleans style, "When the Saints Go Marching In," and he has the volume set as high as possible. Here is an example of an "oh no, not now" ring moment: On Memorial Day, we were standing around my sweet mother-in-law's grave (she passed in December), a very somber moment as my youngest sister-in-law placed flowers on her mother's grave. Out of nowhere, off went the Saints like someone shot them out of a cannon. We could not NOT laugh.
And to be fair, there's my dad, who is 84, and being 84 excuses practically anything, I know. But recently, one of my cousins asked me to email her some old family photos that my dad has. When I asked him for them, and I was horrified to see that he had stapled all of them into the plastic sleeves of a scrapbook album. I tried to hide my dismay; I don't know if I was successful. I said, "Dad, you stapled them? Why?" "They kept sliding down."
Well, OK then. Problem solved, pronto.
This is the same dad who several years ago, before we printed our own photos so easily, wrote with a permanent marker on the backs of new photos and stacked them one on the other, imprinting the words of one photo onto the front of another.
This is the same dad who, six months after I was married, confessed that he had accidentally copied over some of my wedding video. This was 1985, and wedding videos were not that common, so this was fairly devastating. So I put my tape in, prepared myself for the worst, but was still horrified to see Larry Bird of the Celtics going for a lay-up during my vows. Thankfully, we have a grainy copy of our wedding without Larry Bird helping to officiate.
So, I'm just saying, I love my family. But someone has to stage an intervention, soon. No more ring tones, no more staples. And just to be fair, here I am with my husband, "the little man" of the house. Ha.