This is all well and good. Except there are a shit-load--and I do mean a shit-load-- of Cranfords within said radius. And I understand the "The More, The Merrier" philosophy that everyone I'm related to seems to buy into, but it's all just a little... well... ridiculous.
To put things in perspective, I present:
An itemized list of persons and equipment present this year.
[Note: My youngest brother, my grandmother, my grandfather and his wife, my aunt and her husband, 7 of my cousins, and my first cousin once removed were in absentia, so it wasn't as crowded as it could have been.]
I'm not even going to try and list the number of bags of chips, hot dogs or Diet Cokes consumed. Or the number of sunglasses and shoes lost, shirts ripped, or bruises acquired. Or the number of fights over whose turn it was to ride the Sea-Doo. Or the number of times I had to steal a Sea-Doo or the four-wheeler to sneak away to smoke. Or the number of times I screamed "SON OF A BITCH!" in response to being bitten by a fucking horse fly. Or how many times I had to explain my tattoos. Or the number of Nurofen I threw back in an attempt to make the experience tolerable (I will say this for my mom though: she goes to Australia and brings me back Nurofen, which is an over-the-counter/non-prescription drug there, as a souvenir. Who else can say their mom brings them codeine as a present? Who?).
When all's said and done though, the trip served its purpose. I went because I was burned out on Missoula and needed a break. But after three days with my entire family, I'm not only happy to be back in Missoula: I am fucking excited.
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