Thursday, March 3, 2016

Missing Cousins

My cousins are like trains and boyfriends - if I miss one, it's no sweat. Another one will be along in five minutes.

Although I'm not really comfortable constructing an analogy involving boyfriends and family members.

Truly a non sequitor, but I have a branch of my family that is Mormon. My abundance of cousins is not because of them. Even though by my count my Mormon family is responsible for about 26 people. Not including the kids' kids.

Husband has 23 cousins. Total. So my rotating door of surfacing cousins never fails to surprise him, perplex him.

It's not the volume, really, as much as it is the associations. And that has nothing to do with the Mormons. Who, as long as we're talking here, are some of my favorite people in my family. And one - my godfather/cousin - runs an awesome website that aggregates a lot of stories about alcohol. He also neglected to give his son - who no longer practices the faith - a Game of Thrones beer that I asked him to pass on. Hmm.....

But onto the associations. While we were engaged, Husband took a phone call from my cousin. We'll call this cousin Peter Maximoff.  Like the Marvel Universe, I too have duplicate Peter Maximoffs. So I asked Husband which Cousin Peter Maximoff had called.

"You have two cousins with the same name?" he asked. I'm not sure why this was so bizarre to him. He has two cousins with the same name.

But I explained. One Peter Maximoff is, we'll say, Uncle Charles' son - my dad's nephew. The other Peter Maximoff, much like Magneto in the last X-Men, is in prison.

Husband helpfully pointed out that the phone call likely was not from the incarcerated Peter Maximoff.

Solid point.

Another day, early in our marriage, Husband and I were grocery shopping. From across the parking lot, I could see a 6'4" wiry blond guy waving joyfully at me. I eagerly ran, jumping into Wiry Blond's open arms with delight.

Apparently, new husbands aren't overly fond of their brides jumping all over Amazonian blond dudes. This Lucy had some explaining to do for her Ricky.

Wiry Blond's grandfather and my paternal grandfather were cousins. I think. I don't know. I can never remember. And I can't ask my dad. He won't tell me anything now for fear of appearing in my blog.

More recently, I had a Facebook conversation with another cousin. She was under the impression that my mom had, once upon a time, covered her furniture in plastic. I told Husband I couldn't recall my mom ever having plastic slipcovers. My mom just isn't a plastic slipcover kind of girl. Last week Niece's diaper leaked all over her sofa and she didn't even bat an eye.

Husband pointed out that maybe it was our grandmother that had the plastic slipcovers, that this cousin was just confused.

No, I said. This cousin had never been in either of my grandmother's houses.

Husband was confused. How could I have a cousin with whom I do not share a grandmother?

Easy. Her dad's sister and my dad were engaged before my dad met my mom. Who wouldn't call that person family? In 1980, one of this cousin's relatives even let us sleep on his floor in Virginia for two nights when the camper totalled the Datsun.

Yes, we can talk about that later.

Friends that are family is a concept that has, of course, trickled down to my kids. My Friends 1-3 and Husband's Friends Beta 1-4 are all known to my kids as Aunts 1-3 and Uncles Beta 1-4.

Son recently had to send Flat Stanley to someone for a school project. He elected to send it to a man he knows as his uncle in Scotland.

He's not really Son's uncle. But this "uncle" has known my dad longer than my mom has known him, he took that Flat Stanley everywhere, and nobody in my family would ever consider having sex with anybody in his family. That, to me, makes you an uncle. The exception to the not having sex part - the "sexception" if you will - is in cases where my dad used to be engaged to your sister.

The other sexception is Jason Statham, whom my kids call "uncle" but whom I call "future second husband." Mostly because he wouldn't insist on doing anything super annoying after we are married. Like living with me. Are you listening, Jason Statham?

It should come as no surprise - given not only this information but what we all know about my parents  - that my sister found out one of our cousins died because she read my blog last week.

My sister's text. It's the only way I know
she reads my blog.

Not only had my cousin died a week before I posted, but my sister had seen my mom in the interim. Perhaps they were too busy talking about plastic slipcovers to protect against toddler diaper leaks?

Recently, Husband and  I were in University City, casting about for somewhere to eat. We came up on a restaurant that looked good. Belatedly, I pointed out to Husband that not only did "M" work at the restaurant, but she was right there, working today!

Who, Husband wanted to know, is M?

Yeah. M is Husband's cousin.

The Binge
....is not really a binge but a recommendation. Go see Deadpool with someone you love. Or love to have sex with, if that's two different people. Trust me.

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