We had a brunch at auntie kim's house. Grandma seemed unusually emotional, when I saw her she greeted me with 'He is Risen, Rachael!' and I felt spooked. She was frying ham in vegetable oil, and singing some hymn during which her voice cracked and she cried. It reminded her of my Grandma Nana. The ham scene was surreal.

I thought a lot today about how amazing my Uncle Stan is. The things that I accept unflinchingly, like his sword collection, his oft-worn running short shorts with no shirt combo, his obsession with the Scottish culture, his ever present fantasy novel, his incessant weight lifting, I love it all. His diabetes are getting worse, and the low episodes are becoming more and more violent. I'm worried that he'll die in five years or so.

My mother was laying on her side in the lawn very luxuriously this afernoon, and I was mentally ripping on the funny things she might be thinking to herself at that moment like 'kris, you've never looked better...', as she finger combed her long hair like a mermaid. As I was giggling over these things, Uncle Stan randomly emerged from the garage driving a golf cart on the grass directly towards her. The comedic timing couldn't have been more perfect for me. I imagined that he would accidentally run over my mother while everybody screamed 'STOP! Stan, Stop!', but it would be too late for both of them. Thud, thud, the golf cart stops abruptly, and my Uncle Stan's like 'What?' And all of us are weeping and wailing. Knashing our teeth.