I am back, my friends.
Thank you for your sweet words.
Saying good-bye is never easy. Thankfully, for my grandpa, I am merely saying "I will see you soon." And that is what makes this world livable.
There were 50 of us. We ranged in age from 69 to 9 months with three more in the oven. We found ourselves crying at the drop of a hat, laughing hysterically at the most random, ridiculous things, and reminiscing about a man who meant the world to each of us.
It was as perfect as it could be.
We also ate. A lot.
We played football; we watched football. Then we cried over how badly we lost at football.
But there was one activity that completely dominated and controlled the women in my family. It was like they were slaves to it, unable to free themselves from its power.
I am pretty sure it is an addiction.
It is weird.
It has the potential for violence and hostility.
It can often make you want to pull your hair out.
Or maybe even make you drown your sorrows in German chocolate cake. Or Doritos. Or both.
It is called...
And it HAS COMPLETELY TAKEN OVER THE LIVES OF THOSE I LOVE.
They need serious help.
They are making up words. Words that were never included in the English language for a reason. And that reason is because they are RIDICULOUS WORDS.
And I admit that I, too, have fallen prey to the powers of a banana-shaped bag full of letters that have the power to steal hours of your life and leave you feeling like you need to repeat the 4th grade.
You start spelling things in different languages.
You start making up proper nouns even though they are illegal.
You even start dreaming in crossword-like descriptions.
It is like your mind has been taken over by little bitty word nerds.
But at least I escaped. I can't say the same for those poor, spelling-crazed maniacs that I call my family.