Mama Mia!

This past weekend was my second cousins Bar-Mitzvah. They live just over the boarder in NoVa but I am horrible and don't make nearly enough effort to see them. The hands-down leader and matriarch of this side of my family is my great-Aunt. As a young child, compared to my adorable grandmother (one day I will do a post about my grandmother her diet of coffee milkshakes) she scared me. I can now recognize she is a sweet as she is tough, but that's a whole lot of sweet to counter than amount of toughness. She grew up in South Philly in a three-bedroom house with 10 other children. That has got to give you a stiff upper-lip. I hardly made it to 18 living with just one sibling.

She is creeping up on 90 and her husband is 96. They still live in the same house they have been in for years, she volunteers all over the community, and has no problem telling you like it is.

Her husband is not in the best of shape. He has been in and out of the hospital for a few years. Being 96 ain't easy. This past Friday he took ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. My great-aunt was able to see him off, make sure he was comfortable, and still had the will to cook a huge meal for 14 people that night.

At the Bar-Mitzvah, the Rabbi made an announcement about my great Uncle had taken ill and would not be able to make it to the Bar Mitzvah. My mother who had driven down that morning from Philly for the event and who was born without that crucial cerebral component known in the scientific world as a filter, leaned over to me and whispered at a volume that can only be described as deafening, "looks like we'll be coming back down soon!' Thanks for the heads-up mom.

Later that night Cathy and I went to a graduation party for a good friend that has been working on getting this whole college business behind her for a good long while. To celebrate, Cathy made jello shots and tried to get everyone to do keg stands. She is 31. She should be ashamed.