The Christmas season has officially begun for me. Finally. In years past, I've always just managed to mostly ignore Christmas duties, tagging onto my parents/Sandy and not paying all that much attention to it. This year, I've been a bit more proactive.

Mum, Sandy and I piled in the car and drove to Wauchope to see one of my great-grandmothers. My aunty and her two boys are up from Melbourne, too, which is pretty rad. Except I'm used to being the tall guy in the family. I go to hug 15 year old Troy and realise he's almost a foot taller than me. While I'm recovering from that, 16 year old Lucas comes in for his hug and he's at least a foot and a half taller than me. Wholey moley.

I somehow convinced my mum to let me drive her car. She hasn't let me in it since I was on my Ls. To be fair, her car is fairly new. And I wasn't a very good driver... but now I reckon I'm pretty awesome at it. Sandy, not so much. She was in the backseat with Kay grimacing around the mountain roads at Wauchope.

On the down side, I wasn't aware of how lovely my family members are. The boys, Sandy, Kady and I were sitting out on the verandah chillaxing (read: we were really fucking bored). A wander into the kitchen to refill drinks found the grown-ups having a discussion about how all Americans are fat, loud and arrogant, how Murray got mugged by "two big fuckin' black niggas" in the US and then an in-depth discussion about how useless the coons are and how the government gives them too much. *sigh*

Now I'm at my mums step-mums place to see another great-grandmother. Im having trouble blogging cos I'm being distracted by my mums half-brother. To give a bit of backstory on him, I'll give an example of why he is now "so fuckin' cashed up, man". About... a year or so ago now, he was on one of his infamous drug deals that go so wrong. He was shot in the face by one of his customers.

So yeah. I'm duelly pitying him for existing while being scared shitless of him. He's trying to make conversation with me but its not really working cos when he asks me a question, I get a maximum of three words out before he relays a story of his own that answers his question. Tis hard.

And there's plenty of pot around, it stinks. Funnily enough, the teens/early adults are the ones shaking their heads at the lame grown-ups with the drugs.

I'm sure I have plenty more adventures coming with the various strands of my family. Maybe I should start writing a book.