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10:27 p.m. - 2004-08-01 Another Day With The Fannie Mae'sToday, I had to spend the afternoon with the Fannie Mae's. You know, the relatives I spoke about in a former posting that are in the "too good for me" catagory. To refresh your memory, I call them the Fannie Mae's because when I am with them I feel like a turd hidden in a box of Fannie Mae's. Now I used to think that this was my own little self esteem problem, but I am beginning to think that it may be true. I don't belong with these people. We never used to have to be with them more than 4 times per year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and one summer picnic/party thingy....but lately, since this branch of the family is splintering and growing older, my Aunt seems to be trying desperately to keep us all together and has planned several events this year. It seems that I am now forced to see these people on the average of once every month and a half. I choose to attend these get togethers because it is my fathers family and they are nice people and I don't want to tell them how I feel. It would serve no purpose but to make them feel bad and make me look even more turdlike. However, this is getting to be too much. As neurotic as I am, spending 6 hours with them on a Sunday actually ruins 3 or 4 days. It kills the whole day of the event of course, but a day or more before the event, all I can think about is having to go and priming myself for conversaton, rehearsing everything I might say, to be sure I don't make a stupid comment, (like the one about my cousins bathing suit looking like my wallpaper), or what I am going to wear...(do I dress up or dress down?) I rehearse shallow conversations because with this branch of the family you don't dare discuss anything deeper than what movie you saw lately, and I dread over what sports competition will be played because I am a total clutz and would much rather be sitting on my ass than throwing a ball. Today it was bean bag toss competition. I sucked. The visit also ruins a day or two after, because my neurotic mind will be going over every little thing I did and said wondering if it was stupid or if I got too deep or if I sounded stupid. Eventually, the whole aura of the day will wear off and I will be back to normal. I used to think it was me, but now I am sure it is them. I am not the only one who feels this way, my daughter and sister and nephews all get where I am coming from. My Dad was a great guy. We loved him to death. No 3 little girls ever had such a dad and we lost him young. What I have a hard time believing is how this "Greatest Dad who ever was" came from a family that we have literally nothing in common with. If we were not related, there is no way we would be friends. I don't know. They are a large Irish Catholic bunch from Chicago's South Side (Sox Fans) and we are a mongrel Protestant family from the Northside. Maybe the cultural differences are what make us feel so different. We are more affiliated with my Mothers, West Virginia Hills people than the citified South siders whom we are related to. Oh well, they say you can pick your freinds and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your family. I guess I should be glad I have family. P. I. Yarnsmith.
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