Family Time . . .

The backsides of some of my favorite people in the whole, wide world.
There are few things in the world that thrill me as much as when things go as well as they can.

There are, of course, a few reasons for this. First - it means that nothing went wrong. Second - there has to be an overcoming of the concern it might not. Third - that crap never, ever, ever happens. Ever. Especially to me. Because, well, life.

I had the distinct pleasure of spending a nearly-perfect, extended weekend with some of my favorite people in the world this last weekend. My natural and dismissive cynicism wants to jump in here and say something cruel and crass toward/about myself and how much I've devolved over the last nearly-two-years into someone who believes in joy, merriment, comfort, love, satisfaction and (deep exhale, deeper gulp, deepest eye roll) happiness.

Yet it is hard to dismiss myself for coming around to join the other 99.9999999999999999% of you that believe in that stuff all day every day. It is hard to find the error in my ways other than how long it has taken for me to come to this point and to start down this path. It is really too bad. For just about everyone else family time is normal. Family time is easy. Family time is comfortable.

Sure, sure - it could have been better. I only had one brother, sister-in-law, and niece here. My other brother, sister-in-law, and nephews could have been here. My parents, too. But there I am . . . doing it again. I'm going negative instead of just enjoying and relishing four great days with family. Four days surrounded by people who I love. People who mean very, very much to me. I'll just leave it at that.