(chuckles) : My Family Part 1

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I feel bad about my family. Truly I do. 
If you ever encountered my entire family unit, you might feel bad about them too, but you’d probably be too polite to let on. That’s the problem with society. The problem with civilisation.
If I said something to you on the subject – something like:
‘I absolutely cannot stand my family,’ 
you’d undoubtedly respond by saying something nice like:
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. They are nice/normal.’
You’d be lying, of course, but I forgive you. 
I tell lies like that all the time – mostly to friends who tell me they’re upset because they have little pouches under their eyes, or wrinkles, or flab around the middle, and do I think they should have a face lift, or Botox, or liposuction.
My experience is that ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ is code for ‘I see what you mean, but if you think you’re going to trap me into engaging on this subject, you’re crazy.’ It’s dangerous and we all know this as a universal fact. So, never.
Because if I gave you a suggestion and you take it up in good faith, and as the heavens will have it when it comes to Penelope, something, just something even with a remote probability of zero point zero zero one percent, will happen and guess what? It would be All My Fault
But just for this one instance, the fault game doesn’t apply. Finger pointing had backfired half my lifetime ago. 
I am glad it happened.
Just this time, not only is the lining silver, the entire cloud is silver!
My parents headed for Splitville half my lifetime ago. 
But relax. This is not a story about them and Splitville. Or my life around Splitville
It’s about how a simple phone call from my maternal uncle on Chinese New Year eve morning got me heaving in relief that my parents moved into Splitville.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
… there in the background was dear ol’ frumpy aunt S screaming about my maternal grandma (uh huh – the one and only Madame Fussy Pot a.k.a THE QUEEN of ALL Drama Queen) to my uncle (who is suppose to be carrying on a telephone conversation with me/mom) shouting back at her. The verbal volley lasted for a good 3 minutes before I thought I should spare him the humiliation and broke the news that the redundant person in this 3-way conversation, holding up the receiver on the other end of the line is me, his niece, not his sister.
Needless to say the Chinese New Year Eve Reunion dinner with the extended family unit (i.e. those exceeding, mom, me and rover) was colourful. My peachy pink flowered motif baju kurung went totally unnoticed! Yes… reunion dinner was that colourful.
man… that sure was a replay of my life slightly more than half of my lifetime ago. And sorry, I wasn’t chuckling at them.
I was chuckling at … the situation.
I was chuckling at … my good fortune.
I was chuckling at … my parents + Splitville – the 2nd best decision they ever made together.
And the BEST decision? you asked?
Conceiving me of course! {chuckle}
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