”...and when the smoke clears, we will dance!”
As I sat there, listening to my uncle’s weird plan to become famous, I realized that when my Dad laughed at my casual dismissal of the insanity that seemed to run through every member of his family except him. He was not joking.
If it had been any other member of his family, though, I would have been looking for a length of rope to hang myself with. As long as he doesn’t talk about his bunions, I should be able to withstand the next three, long hours.
Then, he said, “I should be okay with that plan unless my bunions flare up.”
Maybe I should start looking for that rope now.