Sometimes I wonder why nobody hangs out with my immediate family at extended family functions. And other times it's blatantly obvious: If you wanted to recreate basically the entire weekend we spent together in St. George for my grandparent's 50th anniversary, you simply need to:
1. Find a little girl's shoe covered in mud and leather butterflies and name it Patricia.
2. Throw Patricia into the creek.
3. Run down the creek shouting "Patricia! I'm a'comin'!", etc.
4. Rescue Patricia ("Oh no, she's not breathing!", etc.).
5. Sole/soul puns.
7. Repeat steps 2-6. Endlessly.
Though we of course worried that Patricia was either the favorite shoe of a little girl who can't sleep because she misses her shoe or evidence in a missing child case, she was a good playmate.
One downfall about Patricia, however, is she violates a law that I've long campaigned to be put on the books: I believe that people should not be allowed to wear more than twelve minus their age butterflies in one outfit. For every butterfly over the allowed limit, they must pay a fine of $100, but not be required to remove it. So perhaps the two or three butterflies that are pulled off tastefully every five years will be worn, just with an extra price attached. But really, think of the fashion crimes that would be stopped and the revenue that could be garnered from Mariah Carey alone! (especially considering that the twelve minus age puts her starting out well into the negatives).
But now that I think about it, it's more that my immediate family doesn't choose to hang out with our extended family than the other way around. We have our own specific brand of fun that we believe is superior to all others. But it seems better to be a little odd than to be snobs, so I'll stick with the untruth that nobody wants to play with us.