On family

The brief lull in posting at Rose-coloured this weekend can be attributed to a visit to my family, which proved far too distracting for any internet interaction (also: I am lazy). It was Canada Day, of course, and since June has been a busy month, we were also catching up on Father's Day and my brother's birthday. With that amount of celebration, of course it was going to be a good time. Really, though, the weekend was made for me in the single moment when my erudite father dubiously pronounced the word "celebutante." In fact, I think from now on, whenever I feel down, I will call him and ask him to say it again. Hilarious.

Is my family weird? Of course they are. "My family is strange" is one of those facts that I think people should really stop presenting as interesting and intimate secrets--along with, "Hospitals make me nervous" and "I get so impatient waiting in lines." These are truths, if not universally acknowledged, at least nearly universally felt (well, I like hospitals, but I know most don't). So is the bit about strange families.

In truth, every *person* is fairly strange--it is only the constant friction of decades of sharing bathrooms and cereal boxes, coupled with the legal certainty that these people can never get rid of you, that allows our strangeness to emerge completely. This is an especially great boon if you, like me, are slightly obnoxious. It is only the binding of blood and law that forces my family continue to tolerate me despite the fact that I constantly try to peck them in public. No, not a timid petite bise, like a schoolgirl, but with the nose, comme un oiseau. And there's not a damn thing they can do about it, except run away. But then I chase them. And criticize their clothes and eat food off their plates. Hooray for blood bonds!

Someday, my brother is going to have to invite me to his *wedding*, despite the fact, that, when last we met, I was attempting to brush my teeth whilst walking down the stairs. When he made me laugh, I choked, collapsed into the fetal position and dribbled toothpaste all over my dress slacks. You, gentle reader, will never have to deal with such behaviour from me, unless you should be so foolish as to marry or adopt me. But my family gets nonstop nonsense.

And while we might be united in our communal dislike of lines and medical establishments, I guess we are pretty much stuck in our respective familial strangenesses. I adore my family, as I'm sure you do yours. However, when I say some of my most rose-coloured memories of us include trying to tie various items to the roof of a car, you probably can't imagine why. And to me, that's just strange.

I want a photo opportunity / I want a shot at redemeption
RR