There are those who think I’m strange… They are all right. However, in my defense, I got it via my family.
The following is an actual conversation I had with a third party regarding an interaction with my family in the week before I went on a trip south.
My mission: to bring down quilting squares that my mother sent me (these would be for my brother’s daughter’s (Red’s) birth… did I mention she’s 1.5 years old at this point? I was supposed to embroider them with something unique to myself and my husband (and another one that my daughter was supposed to do… the difference being that she got hers done) and then Ducky and grandma are going to piece them together, and Red will have a lovely blanket.
My other Mission: Bring an antique children’s rocking chair that has been in my family for oh so many years and that goes to whoever has the baby. It came to Alaska when my baby was born (almost 13 years ago!) and has sat in storage for the last 10 years. During that time the wood dried and one armrest popped out of socket (I still can’t find it) and a seam in the seat split. So now I’m terrified that it’s going to break beyond repair before I can foist it off on my brother.
I should take this moment to just state that my mother is known as Ducky to her grandchildren… more than that is for another post, though…
Here’s my conversation:
Me: My family… I can’t tell if they rock or if they suck.
Me: Mom tells me to bring the quilt squares. Brother tells me that he’s been instructed not to pick me up from the airport if I don’t have them.
Me: I tell him I can only find one of the two squares. He says he’ll pick me up anyway… and then just tell mom that I lied to him.
3rd: Hee! Rock.
Me: I call Brother and tell him I’m bringing the rocker. And that the rocker has broken, does he know someone who can fix it. He says yes. I get home and the rocker doesn’t fit in the box. I call Alaska Airlines and they tell me that they will probably break it in transit if I just tie the flight info to it. So I make an executive decision and e-mail my mom that I’ll fix the rocker up here and then ship it south. This is the e-mail I get back:
“Great. Great great. Brother wins the bet, but I’ll help you with the cost of the rocker. I guess you can’t call it Baby’s car seat, huh? Oh well. Just get here, scrap what you need to.
Me: And I’m all… “Wait… y’all are betting on me on this?!?!?!” and she sends:
“Just on whether or not the rocker comes. Since it was a deliberate choice not to bring it maybe he doesn’t win. He thought you would forget it.”
3rd: Your family definitely rocks.