6:09 p.m. - 2004-06-21
The Fannie Mae's
The Cold Stone Ice Cream never materialized. What a bummer. Michelle didn't realize that you had to order the ice cream cake in advance and showed up with a grocery store cake decorated with icing colored Chicago Bears blue and orange. It had two plastic goal posts, a Chicago Bears plasic flag and a little tiny cute bobble head football player doll on it. A cute Fathers Day cake for a Chicago Bears lovin Pop, but Mom was all set for Cold Stone. I hope I made her feel guilty as I stuck out my bottom lip and let it quiver, on the verge of throwing a tantrum.

The good news is I was not about to blow my diet for a Jewel Store cake, therefore preserving my sugar free day.

I am a bit tired of family gatherings now. Seems like there has been some sort of family gathering almost every other week since March. Most of them I found enjoyable, but some of them had to be spent with the relatives that I call "THE FANNIE MAES".

Why do I call them The Fannie Mae's? Because when I am with them, I feel like a turd sitting in a box of fine chocolate candy.

Now this is my problem, not theirs. It is just another one of my idiosyncracies and neurosies. They are nice people and have always been good to me, but they are so different from me that I can't even believe that we have a common ancestor. They behave properly at all times....I do not. They always dress nicely...I do not. Their children are all accomplished....I am not. In other words, if we weren't related to each other there is no way we would ever be freinds.

Now, I realize that it is my perception of them that is off. They are much too well mannered to ever suggest that they don't like me, yet, I don't know if it is my imagination or does that one aunt look at me with that look one has on their face when they smell fish.

Spending time with these people is always a chore. When I get invited to an event they are hosting, I worry about it for the whole 4 or 5 weeks before the event, and just about have an anxiety attack the day of the event, and I always end the event walking to my car thinking, Whew!...at least that's over.

In my mind, I go over and over and over what I am going to say, honing each sentence to sound witty and profound. I make myself so nervous that instead of saying something witty or profound, I usually end up saying something that sounds moronic or rude.

For instance. Once my cousin was having a birthday and opened a gift to reveal a pretty bathing suit. She held it up for all to see and people were making remarks about how pretty it was and how it went with her eyes and skin color and what did I say? I blurted out; "Oh, I love that pattern, it looks just like my wallpaper."

Now, I did not mean this as an insult. I really liked my wallpaper and I thought the pattern looked good on a bathing suit. Again, the room fell silent as I looked from person to person who were looking at me like I was pond scum. (Dr., I have this strange feeling of Dejavu). This is the day that I learned that it is a serious breach of etiquette to compare someone's clothing to wallpaper.

So you see. When I call these relatives "Fannie Mae's", I am not insulting them. I am commenting more on my natural ability to just blurt out what ever is on my mind, and it is usually something that will raise an eyebrow or two. But they say you can pick your nose and your can pick your seat but you can't pick your relatives, so until I get it all figured out, I will just go pretending I am a Fannie Mae and hope that I don't look like Mr. Hankey.

P. I. Yarnsmith.

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