As Promised … Ruminations on Normality

Isn't that a great word? Ruminations? *sighs happily* It's almost completely unusable outside of a college English department, but so are most of the words I like. …. except fiddlesticks. That's actually the exact opposite.

Anyway! On to the good stuff.

Jolie, Pukka, and I had a pleasant weekend up to and including when I had to leave. I didn't really want to go, but I have badish night vision, and it is a three hour drive, so I had to leave mid-afternoon. I'd delayed the inevitable as long as possible by playing a card game with Jolie, but the time had come. I hopped up, told them I was going to the restroom, and that they should try to act normal when I came back (they'd been odd all weekend – not that I didn't expect it, but you know).

I bid a solemn goodbye to Don Twiglet, one of the heads of the infamously powerful Kitten Mafia, and bounced down the hallway to the living room.

Where I found my brother-in-law Pukka balancing a cat scratching tree upside down on his stomach. He had flung his head back dramatically and was chanting, "Oh me. I am so normal. This is me acting as normal as possible. I am doing exactly what I normally do. Oh me."

I rolled my eyes and turned away from him to pick up my coat. See, to tell the truth, I expected that from Pukka. He's just like that. Then, a high pitched giggle (remarkably similar to my own) mixed with a few snorts came from behind me. I froze already certain I didn't want to turn around and see what Jolie was up to. But, curiosity killed the Daphne (and the Adeline truth be told). So I reluctantly glanced over my shoulder.

And saw my sister standing in the space between the living room and the kitchen/laundry room with a pair of her underwear on her head.

(I think this is the part where I'm fairly glad Jolie doesn't know that I have this blog yet … because while we're both – supposedly – mature … she just might kill me for this.)

Needless to say, I died laughing. I demanded she take the darned things off so I could give her a hug. She protested they were clean, but I still made her take them off. Pukka, being a mischievous, troublesome sort, didn't take off the pair I finally noticed he was wearing too so he had to give my back a hug.

Now, I ask you, does this explain a lot?

Yeah, I thought it might.