Learn to Live With What You Can't Rise Above

Auntie InExcelsisDeo's got my number, and she calls, too.

Tata: My horoscope this morning can be paraphrased to read, "Call your aunt."
Auntie I.: It can? Well, here I am now. Did I mention you should save the 29th?
Tata: What? No...
Auntie I.: I'm telling you two weeks ago to save the 29th of next month for Monday's bridal shower.
Tata: I'll just tell you I'm not going to any bridal showers.
Auntie I.: You're going. I will hunt you down like a dog!
Tata: I know you will.
Auntie I.: Your uncle will put up the tent and our big lie is we're celebrating your birthday, so you have to be there. Besides, I threw your daughter's bridal shower so you have to come to my daughter's. And then my other daughter's. And maybe someday, my future daughter-in-law's. Then you're done.
Tata: Damn it! Okay, so...we'll drink! The 29th is not my birthday, and there's no way in the world Monday travels three states when she can call me up and tell me off on my special day. And wait - outside, under a tent on the last day of February, and did you know this isn't leap year?
Auntie I.: You can rest quietly under a table somewhere and -
Tata: - try not to yak on the gifts, got it.
Auntie I.: You're going! I will hunt you down like a dog!
Tata: Should I act surprised?

So it appears the wedding/hostage drama starts again. On Christmas Eve, which I will write about in all its sparkly, gory joy in the fullness of time, Monday was already showing signs of being our budding bridezilla, by which I mean Daria restrained me from clubbing Monday like a baby seal. Or maybe Dad threatened to send me to my room, technically located in the next county. I forget - anyway, I'm going to call Miss Sasha twice a day and tell her this is all her fault, and though I laugh as Auntie InExcelsisDeo threatens my life, I know she loves me enough to do it.

My only hope may lie in a lengthy prison sentence. I gotta think up some crimes.