[Edited to Add: I borked-up my blog and accidentally disappeared ALL comments – sorry, if I lost yours – because, I am A DORK!]
This is the sign that welcomes visitors to my parents house, as it sits firmly planted in between the geranium beds, next to the bird feeders and right outside their front door.
On the surface, most people find its salutation agreeable and a few have made their inquiries as to where they, too, might find such an amusing lawn ornament.
Looking a little deeper, and having spent the better part of the summer visiting with my family, one might perhaps understand the truth that lies underneath its whimsical tone.
Especially, since I was the one who bought it for them.
Thing Two, Mini-me and their very East European-looking Great Aunt Elizabeth at "The Farm."
My Aunt Elizabeth is here visiting us from Hungary and staying with my parents, here in Jersey.
"You’re more than welcome to stay with us!"
So, being a good niece, I put any (and all) blogging on hold and extended an invitation for her to, you know, sleep on the couch.
"But, you have to work."
I explained to her that, seeing as I don’t get paid all that often and I can do it whenever, wherever and wearing whatever I want, it’s really not like work at all!
"Did you ask your parents?"
[frowning]
"No, I told them."
[nods]
"Okay, I just don’t want to cause any trouble."
You see, Hungarians are funny like that…not…and even though my Aunt Elizabeth is 57-years-old, the poor thing still feels the need to ask, as well as receive, my parents’ permission.
"I know what you mean."
My parents aren’t well — my mother is having a hard time recovering from her surgery and is having trouble with circulation and my dad is, well, the same — and my Aunt Elizabeth is here to help me, help them and I can’t help but feel as if it’s going badly.
"Things are a little stressful at their house."
An understatement, really, as my aunt spent the next 3 days, with us, venting.
"Your father’s tongue can get really nasty, some times."
Having gone through 9 surgeries, in 2 years, will do that to a person.
"And I didn’t fly thousands of miles to be spoken to that way."
Still, is it wrong that I’m so glad it’s her and not me?
"Um…no…but, he deserves know."
[nods]
"So, when are YOU going to talk to him?"
[eyes go wide]
"Me?"
You see, my aunt already asked ME to talk to my husband, Garth (not his real name) when he accidentally offended her, on our vacation, by saying goodbye and mistakenly telling her to:
"Lick my ass!"
It went badly and for the longest time Garth (not his real name) was afraid to, you know, talk to her…at all…until, he agreed to eat some terribly undeserved crow and apologized to keep the peace.
"Perhaps, it would be better if it came directly from you."
You see, after 44 years (having spent 18 of those years being married, 15 of which include raising 4 kids) I too have learned quiet little ways in which to keep the peace.
"Besides, you are his baby sister and he loves you."
But, sometimes the best action is to take no action at all!
"I know…let’s get Garth (not his real name) to talk to him!"
[eyes go wide]
"Besides, you already know he curses real good in Hungarian, too!"
[grin]
"You Americans are SO weird!"
Indeed.
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In Other News:
Wii Sports – Getting your kids AND grandparents off the couch!
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