Christmas 1
So this past week-end we celebrated Christmas with my Mom’s side of the family. I of course sat with my foot propped up like the gimp I am, holding my various cousins’ babies and completely defenseless against the obssessive picture-taking by people with new digital cameras (ordinarily I can at least run away).
I love my family. I really do. And it’s nice to see them every once in a while. But somewhere in between deep-frying the turkey, watching random relatives open gifts with either “Mega-Buck Hunting” or “Nascar” themes, figuring out who was now married to whom which step-children belonged to whom and who was and was not currently drinking/smoking/working, and discussing with my father the names of my various cousins’ childrens’ names (the relative merits of Olivia and Briana, the two latest, over their elder cousins, Michaela, Shania, Sierra, and Lenisha), it struck me: I think I want to move to the East coast. Some nice place like Boston or NYC or, hey, Liz and Dan say Princeton, NJ is nice. Or maybe Europe. Would Paris be far enough East? Or should I keep going until I hit Prague?
Katie R., tell Guy that if he or his Nashville friends are ever short of material for writing country songs, he should give me a call. I’ll get him in touch with my family; he could interview any one of them and come up with three songs at least! 
December 20th, 2004 at 3:14 pm
Well, I can definately add a verse to your song. I found out, while visiting my family this weekend, that not 1 but 2 cousins are supposed to report for some time in the klink. One has a 90 day sentance and one has a 60 day sentance. The 60 day one got busted for Public Intoxication while urinating in a trash can outside of Wal-Mart.
Ahhh, the disfunction.