An ounce of condescension

Young woman meditating.

…is worth a pound of manure.

Okay, so that isn’t how the original quote.  But it is more fun….and sometyimes more accurate.

The holidays.  It is a wonderful time of the year.  We enjoy friends and family, decorate, sing, eat, and remember the birth of Jesus.  We spend time with people we love and whom we do not always have the pleasure of seeing throughout the year. 

Now we all know the stories of the “family misfits.”  You know, weird Uncle Ned who raises fruit bats and brings his electric mandoline and his signature homemade fig casserole to the celebration.  Or weird Grandma Havisham who is still wearing her wedding from being jilted about a century earlier, reminding everyone not to eat that moldy wedding cake…..oh, wait, that’s Great Expectations…..

Anyway, we all have those somewhat eccentric friends or relatives.  But color me interesting; I LIKE those eccentric relatives.  They make the party interesting, they have the best stories, and what is so wrong with fig cassrole anyway?  I mean, it’s kind of like piggy pudding….sort of…if you hold your nose.

The hardest loved ones for me to feel up close and loving with are the ones who unliaterally decide exactly who the misfits are.  You know them too, but we do not talk about them much.  Because, frankly, they are just not near as much fun as the quirky relatives.  They are the ones who don’t quite pat us on the head….but we feel it.  The ones whose prayer lists we know we have been at the top of since last Christmas when we let it slip that we saw all the Harry Potter movies.  The ones whose piety…..um…..glows in their faces.

Not to bah humbug any aspect of holuiday cheer….but to put it bluntly, I would rather make a meal of moldy wedding cake and hear an electric mandolin concert than to sit in the sitting room knowing that an intervention for my well-being may be imminent.

Some please pass me some fig casserole…..and make it a strong one.

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