Age In Revolt

Ladies and gentlemen. This is what 50 looks like.

This is also what it looks like when you have this little thing in your skin biologically called “melanin”.

This is one of my aunt-in-laws. (Aunt by marriage? Aunt on the side?) She is one of the many in the brood of BFam’s relatives.

She’s a purdy lady.

Her family was nice enough to get together and throw a fantastic shin dig in her honor for her milestone day. It was warm. It was loving. It was full of nice things to say. It was one of the first times I’d been to an event where others showed how much they loved you while you were still living.

There’s no impact in telling someone when they’re dead.

This is Booger’s favoritest cousin in the whole wide world. She’s not that much younger than me, and she is the eldest child of Aunt Purdy Lady. They’ve heard this all her life (and I’m sure they’re pretty sick of it), but they could pass for twins. TWINS, I tells ‘ya. From their hair, to their demeanor, to their sense of fashion. It’s uncanny. And scary! She’s been apart of Booger’s daycare regimen since she was a little babe in swaddling clothes. These two have a special bond. She’s a good egg. I think we’ll keep her.

This is another one of the cousins. Little hamburger that he is. He could be such a ladies man if he weren’t just so darn silly! I like him.

This is BFam’s dad. He, BFam and BFam’s brother, Stoopid, all share the same government name. In our earlier days of dating, calling his home was a very confusing time. I was happy when they all adopted nicknames I could freely call them. BFam’s dad – let’s call him That Man – That Man, when asked to be, is pretty funny. The family was hardly surprised when Stoopid called home (in one of his many nomadic stupors) to tell us he was trying his hand at comedy. As long as I’ve known them, all three men have been hilarious crack-ups, keeping relatives in stitches. Of course, I’d be married to the one who never wants anyone to know he’s funny but me (see: Curmudgeon Saint Cranky Pants).

That Man was asked to roast his sister. Since his sister (and most of his family, including himself) is of the spiritual cloth, it wasn’t quite as blue of a roast as, say, Bea Arthur for Pamela Anderson. (Oh, that’s bad. Evacuate the kiddies before playing.) It was tasteful and classy. Lots of inside jokes, jabs at early childhood hairdos. Very loving, brotherly-type stuff.

I’ve said it before, but BFam’s family is large. With any family, you meet obstacles, conflicts in personalities, arguments, rough patches. If you’re the Kennedys, you meet scandals. But out of all their differences (knowing of and having witnessed several myself), it was very nice to see them all come together to celebrate the baby sister of the bunch.

The purdy lady.

[Photographic credit: Mooter (go, Mooter, go!)]