Where is that damn pie?

My youngest great-uncle passed away over the weekend and today was his funeral. He has 6 siblings, plus their spouses, plus all the resulting progeny from all those connections. Therefore, I have a fairly large family. I have spent the past day and half with this family. I love my family and really get a kick out of being with them - although, I do get a tad weary of hearing about their locked stools and other various ailments. In addition, I have had to provide several reports on my Fertility Status and had to answer a variety of questions that nearly always have dual meanings. Since vocal inflections don't appear well in print, I will provide the appropriate translation.

How do you like your New House? (Translation: Why did you buy such a large house? You don't have children.)

And so, what does X do again? (Translation: How can you afford that house?)

You drive a Toyota? (Translation: How can you drive that piece of crep? Don't you know the Japanese attacked us in 1941?)

Are you sure you don't want to ride to the funeral with us? (Translation: Although you have been driving since you were almost 14, you still don't do it right.)

Are you still working for Big Al? (Translation: You haven't left this job already? Isn't it about time, you Chronic Job Hopper?)

Where is X? (Translation: I don't really care which is evidenced by how badly I just pronounced his name, but I am sitting here next to the Aunt Who Asks Loaded Questions and I am afraid she will start talking to me so it is really best that I start a conversation with you since I drive a Honda.)

Thankfully, my family drowns their grief in food, relentless teasing and recounting of fond memories. Dishes containing beef and pies containing REAL cream are such a rare treat for me, that I was able to overlook many comments passed today. Besides, I adore my family. Truly, I do. It saddens me to see my Grandma's generation getting smaller. If I don't hurry up with the DNA Project, I will never have to shield my children's ears from the racy jokes that the remaining great-uncles still relish in telling. My children may not get to experience the complicated game of Avoiding the Aunt and her Loaded Questions (it takes a certain skill). They may miss out on Uncle F's magic tricks. And they wouldn't get to experience Uncle T's prowess at tickling.

So, I got in my traitorous automobile and headed towards my oversized house that contained my husband with the funny-sounding name. When I arrived, I gave him a big, HUGE hug and said that I loved him. He looked at me like I was crazy.

Why was he surprised? He's met my family.