I try not to be critical of the daily prompts. I wouldn’t want the job of coming up the ideas, then listening to the complaints. You can’t make everyone happy. What sparks a genius thought in one person leaves a handful of others shaking their heads trying to loosen a thought that might be trapped by the obvious first one that came to mind.
This prompt leads me to the immediate conclusion that a majority of the responses will quote the saying: “You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose, and you can’t pick your family.” I will refrain from doing so.
Also, I don’t want to, but this prompt wants me to bash my family. Our families are often a source of pain, (which is the birthplace of my humor). There is love there too, but I’m here to focus on the negative. There is nominal humor in the positive. I have no fear of hurting anyone’s feelings because no one reads my blog, so the chances of that are minuscule at best.
So let’s get started-
The Family Gathering
Mission: Complete required celebration with minimal casualties.
Strategy: Fortify supply lines (with the money I pulled out of my ass-orted savings), purchase, and stockpile food.
Many minor skirmishes breakout resulting from the two steps forward, one step back of this process. There are several people sharing living quarters with me (teenagers), and it seems at times that they are sabotaging my efforts.
Finally, the day before the battle is upon us, and the food prep in the mess hall begins chopping, slicing, marinating, planning.
Forge ahead to the day of battle:
- I and the setting sun are two ships that pass in the night. Morning has not quite broken, and I’m up to begin the real preparations. Objective- Load food into the oven.
- Ready the troops: The melee I hear means the kids are finally up, so we are a go. I assign aids to set the table (no man’s land) and to bathe the dogs. Meantime, I jump in the shower as the oven is doing its job, and try to think about something more relaxing— maybe war?
- Ambushed: The doorbell rings, (because someone is always painfully early). I have one eye still in the makeup kit when they arrive… “A Clockwork Orange” look it is.
- Counterattack: I put on some music to drown out the critical questions and comments about the logistics (what we’ll be dining on), and the poor condition of the barracks (my house). They now have beverages in hand, the glasses carefully inspected for tampering before they drink.
- Goal-distract the enemy. I head back to the staging area. I don my apron with a painted on speedo clad greased-up bodybuilder torso, as a diversionary tactic.
- The full invasion begins as the guests arrive. We have invited all exes because it shows the children—no idea. (Whose idea was this?)
- Medical supplies: Ah, the backup forces have arrived- my sister with champagne.
- Patrolling the grounds: Someone is always late. Holding up the getting on with it so we can all get the hell out of here and pretend this never happened. I see the latecomers have arrived.
- Intelligence: We move into no man’s land and search for intelligence as we dine on the rations.
- Unsolicited opinions
- Bad table manners
A decisive victory is called when the last car pulls out of the driveway.
Time to clear away the shrapnel.
THE DAILY POST
Sep 19, 2014
How would you get along with your sibling(s), parent(s), or any other person you’ve known for a long time — if you only met them for the first time today?