I'd like to think it's because you identify. You find humor in my family because it resonates with your own families generation gaps.
I am willing to admit that it's actually because, much like a train wreck, you can't look away from the madness.
So for all of you- This one's for you.
This weekend was a 3-day celebration of my birth, or as some have been quick to point out, what a spoiled brat I am (Only child, only grandchild. It happens.). In one oh-so-distinct dinner, we covered everything you all love most about my family.
Let us recap:
1) Dinner was kicked off by the doling out of presents, which caught everyone off guard. Grandma had already been so generous as to buy me an iPad, a gift I was immensely grateful for, and am currently composing on. So when I was presented a box with my card, I was both confused and excited.
As it turns out, the present was a very pretty diamond and sapphire ring of Grandma's. It is undeniably gorgeous, albeit a little much for my taste. Non-the-less it was generous and sweet, and amusing only due to the commentary.
Grandma does not like that I wear a ring of mom's. She has actually told me as much. And with all she does for me, I should be wearing a ring of hers. Well OK.
The ring, although set in yellow gold, does vaguely resemble Princess Diana's engagement ring. Bought 20-some years before the royal jewel, grandma took every opportunity throughout the evening to point out how she had bested the royals, buying it well before them. Too bad the colonists didn't have Grandma. There wouldn't have been any American Revolution, just a nice dinner where the British were beaten over the head with their failures and ineptitudes, resulting in the British slinking away, wondering how they ever thought they could rule at all.
2) We went to Stables, one of my favorite Hautian stops, where they bring out bread before the salads along with some delicious butter and brushetta dipping combo. Knowing, and loving, me, you know that I immediately reach for a piece. This is the resulting conversation.
Grandma: You know, I saw a woman on TV that was 1,400 pounds.
Mom: Is that even possible?
(Insert me reaching for bread)
Grandma: Well, that's how it starts. (Motioning to me.)
Me: How what starts?
Grandma: Becoming the 1,400 pound woman. You eat too much bread.
I try to ignore her and begin talking to mom about a Dr. Oz segment I saw previewed where women gained lots of weight because there are fetish-ists who love really morbidly obese women. Apparently heart failure can prove to be a turn on.
But does Grandma let it go? Nope. While I won't bore you with the rest of my food choices, imagine this conversation on repeat, with everything else I eat. Later in the evening, Grandma asks Mom if I know that my butt has gotten bigger.
Lovely.
3) I'm a spinster.
Yep. Did you get the memo? Neither did I.
While some of you may not have been aware of this, 22 is in fact, less of a step, and more of a turning point. At 22, suddenly life is not all fun and games, but a sudden veer into the land of marriage and weddings and inevitably babies. And my lack of ring and acceptable mate is real cause for concern.
3.5) My spinster-ship is really my own fault, as I am making myself undesirable for any Grandma-suitable mate, what with my career, choice in friends, and desire to not be bossed around or told what to do/wear/say by a potential boyfriend. I am fairly certain, after listening to Grandma talk about said "ideal mate", I should be looking for a borderline abusive Richy Rich. She'd really like someone who will "Tell you what to do... You know, who will tell you what's best" and "Keep you in line."
4) This should probably be 3.75 or something. Whatever.
As it turns out, my love of gays is also a downfall. This resulted in a sort of confusing conversation but I think the logic goes as follows: Eligible bachelors are turned off by the very idea of tolerance. And my having male friends who don't want to sleep with me.
God love my mother, who pointed out to grandma that I myself wasn't gay, which would REALLY present a problem for me settling down with a nice boy. This only frustrated my grandmother who had not thought of this possibility... Yet.
At this point, Grandma told mom she was mocking her concern. FYI, Mom was.
5) I was wearing an ugly dress. I took I-70 home, when she wanted me to take 40. I didn't get in town soon enough. I drink alcohol (after this evening, wouldn't you?) which is just empty calories. I have a job that is hard to explain to people. I don't show her anything (I don't know what this even means). I will probably lose the ring she gave me.
So, let's just consider #5 miscellaneous things I've done wrong, OK?
It was really one of those evenings that encapsulated the crazy which makes us the Schaffer women. It demonstrated the generation gap (22 to marry? Really?) and the generational diluting of insanity that has occurred (thankfully) with each new Schaffer woman.
It also reinforced the sheer bewilderment grandma views my life with. She has no idea why I wouldn't want to get married to the first successful man I saw and live the rest of my life smiling happily on his arm as he bossed me around and kept me financially stable.
Can someone just explain to Grandma why this doesn't sound like a dream come true?
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