Dropping the "D" Bomb

Our family vacation was amazing. Off the charts, really. Incredible. Couldn't have been better.

So it's too bad it ended kinda poorly. With an almost-missed plane and some marital strife. We landed (yes, we AND our tagged-"LATE" bags made it) On Time Friday night, with the prospect of another Family Wedding Event on the morrow: my brother's Bachelor Brewery Tour on a Party Bus. After a week of HIS brother's wedding, my husband left for MY brother's event barely speaking to me, alas.

When I saw my brother later on this evening, he shared that he was so glad my husband was part of the group today.

"That's nice," I offered, "since we're getting divorced tomorrow."

My brother, about to get married himself, and whose sincerity is very real and measurable (and whose Brewery Tour left him a little Slurry and Sentimental), got suddenly serious.

"Look, sister. You can't just throw out the 'D' Word. And anyway, he's already family. If you were even serious, I'd have to tell you 'Uh uh, NO WAY.' He's IN, no matter what YOU do.'"

Worried that he thought I was actually confiding something with tangible possibility, I backpedaled.

"I'm only joking, brother. But I would like to Kick His Ass."

"All I am saying is, he's family. You can't even go there."

"OKAY! I GET it. Anyway, I just spent a week with his family, and I am pretty sure they feel the same way about me."

Moral of this story: watch where you go for sympathy. All the rules of allegiance change when you get married.