Surely you can't be serious?! And don't call me Shirley!

I've toyed with the idea of blogging for quite some time. After the story that I'm about to write happened, I decided I needed a forum to share stories just like this one.

It seems in my family that men don't last long. The women, however, live forever. The good news is, there's not a history of cancer in my family. But crazy? Good Lord, there's enough crazy in my family to keep an institution in business for decades. Obviously, I'm a little worried about what this means for my future. This also does not bode well for any potential suitors. Be forewarned: you will die before me, and at some point, I will inevitably lose my mind, go crazy, and start accusing you of the most absurd offenses. This is just one example of my family's crazy:

Background: My great-Aunt E (as she shall be called here) is 90. She has lived an amazing and hard life and has always been an inspiration to me. Sadly, she has succumbed to severe dementia. It usually just breaks my heart, but sometimes, all you can do is laugh to keep from crying. She has always spoken her mind with no filter for as long as I can remember. Now add dementia to the mix, and you've got a recipe for success.

About a month ago, we went to visit her in the nursing home. This happens to be a very lucid day. How can we tell? She's not yelling at us and accusing us of stealing her pictures, clothes, pens, etc. So far, so good. As we're chatting, she looks over at me, points an arthritic finger, just smiles, and mumbles something.

"Looks like Shirley's put on some weight."

Now I have, unfortunately, not been working out or eating like I should, and have put on some weight. But do I really need someone (a 90-year-old woman at that) to point that out to me? No. My tight jeans and chunky waistline tell me so every day. Also, my name is not Shirley. Who's Shirley you might ask? She's only my mom's cousin who is incredibly overweight, you can count the number of teeth in her mouth on two hands, and - oh yeah - she's what we refer to as "special." (Editor's note: Shirley is incredibly sweet, so I mean no offense to her. I just don't want to be compared to her!)

As we were leaving, Aunt E begins telling us about how she's going to ride her bicycle (aka wheelchair) back home (aka nursing home room). Just smile and nod along with it.

So, all-in-all it was a great day. I was reminded that craziness is my destiny, I was called out for gaining weight, and I was compared to someone who is "special." Who could ask for more?