Cranky factors

After Saturday night's dinner, my friend remarked that I always get cranky when I get together with my side of the family.

True.

I sewed a little gift for my mother's birthday. She tossed it aside with disgust.

I learned my sister doesn't keep in touch with my Chicago cousin even though they went together on a cruise of the Yangtze River a few years ago. Because of my cousin involvement with Hispanic friends, advocates of immigrants' rights.

I learned my sister's fiance won't travel to any third world countries. Not at all. Explains why my sister travelled with my cousin. Explains those hateful e-mails that my sister forwards.

Another sister remarked on the abundance of gray hair. Said it makes me look old. Told me to dye it. She'll turn 60 in October.

This same sister lives next door to my mother yet arrived without her. When questioned about my mother's tardiness, she jabbered excuses. And kept jabbering until I vanquished her into the restaurant while I waited outside.

That's half the family. The other half were too far across an immense round table in a noisy room to have a decent conversation.

Yes. I got cranky.