What little I know...

This weekend I received four messages that made me happy and in a couple instances laugh out loud, both for their content and because of who the senders were.  They are as follows:

1. Is making a peanut-butter sandwich for your dog a sign of slipping into insanity?

2. I've been wanting to ask someone this for a long time, but have been worried about being laughed at, but now I don't care so much and I really want to know: is it safe to blow-dry your hair while peeing (for efficiency purposes)?

3. If this is four-ones operator, can you please send a car out to Lake Grove, NY?

4. Thinking of you.  I love you. Always.

The first two made me laugh out loud, because oddly, I knew the answers, or what I perceive to be the answers.  Making a peanut-butter sandwich for your dog is not a sign of impending insanity, it certainly helps your case (if you strive for sanity) if you don't add jelly, or cut the crusts off.  Peeing while blowing drying your hair is very efficient, although I don't recommend trying to blow your hair straight while on the toilet as I personally don't have the coordination for this (I like to share what I know from experience), and I wouldn't want anyone else to get electrocuted by my misinformation. 

The third and fourth messages made my heart smile.  Four-ones was the car service in the neighborhood I grew up in, and only people I grew up with would know that.  The last message, for obvious reasons was well and happily received.

I keep seeing this pictogram thingy (that's a word in my world) on Facebook that says something about cousins being the first friends in your life. Dripping in cheesy sentiment though it may be, I've been thinking about that particular thingy a lot lately.  The above messages were all sent to me by cousins.  How they knew I needed them, I won't ever know, but that's how it is with people who share your history, they just know.  Like any good Irish-Catholic, I have a ridiculous amount of cousins; over twenty first cousins and countless second, once removed, kissing, and whatever other synonyms that are used to describe the people one is vaguely related to.  A friend of mine used to joke that they couldn't go anywhere in my neighborhood without running into someone I was related to.  I have a friend like that here in Denver, and I must confess that I'm jealous - I miss my cousins.   I suppose that's how it is for people who have always been a part of your life.  You are who you are because you are part of a unit that is greater than you, that envelops and protects you, and ultimately makes you who you are.    

As a child, my life revolved around being with my cousins.  The things I've shared with my cousins are innumerable: sleepovers, clothes, babysitters, food, fights, roller-skating, leg-shaving, music.  There is no other group of people (this includes my brother, of course) in this world that I feel more connected to and more myself around than them.  Even as an adult who lives so far from all of them, I am immediately relaxed when I speak to them, and 'home' whenever I am around them.

Because I live so far away from them all, out here in Denver, I don't get to see my cousins all that often. When I allow myself to think of it, my heart hurts thinking of what my own children are missing out on by not having their family around them like I did.  Just over a month ago, one of my cousins died.  Suddenly and tragically, and it is something that I am still attempting to wrap my brain around, or, "wrestle into a spot," as my cousin Dave described it.  Attending my dear cousin's funeral was awful and bittersweet at the same time.  I was with my cousins, which usually makes my heart sing, and I was bearing witness to my male cousins be the pall-bearers for my cousin whose passing left all us reeling.  All that went through my head, watching these strong and beautiful men was, 'we used to be kids'.  I believe we all made it through this day by shoring each other up, crying and literally holding onto each other for dear life.  Later, there were more tears, but some laughs, too, because, let me assure you, my cousins are the funniest people you will ever come across. 

What little I know is that receiving those messages this weekend will get me through the missing for some time to come.  I hope that my little messages and reminders will do the same for my cousins; the craziest, loveliest group of people I have ever had the privilege of belonging to.

This weeks tip:  Only by living absurdity, is it possible to break out of this infinite absurdity.  (Bernard Levin)