Most Normal Person of the Year

As I was sitting in my family room today, cutting all the words out of a book with my X-acto knife and glueing them into strips, I realized with a start that I am, unfortunately, the most ordinary person of my family. I am nothing more than a misunderstood, kind of normal soul in a family of crazies. You see, while sitting in my chair covered in glue and strips of paper in a state of revelation, I was interrupted from my thoughts only by the noisy footfalls of my sister as she ran up and down the hall, practicing her best gimp-like run.

Quite understandably, she was rehearsing for the role she landed tomorrow as the limping victim (and first casualty) of a local horror movie. That's right, while more ordinary sisters are spending their Saturdays shopping or eating salads, my sister will be dramatically practicing her demise, as she is bludgeoned to death by a cannibal with a bar of soap. I expect great things for her performance, and as I sat there this afternoon, merrily chopping at my book and watching my sister limp back in forth (in artistic determination), I couldn't help but hope that movie watchers everywhere will be touched by her heartfelt performance.

As this ruckus was unraveling downstairs, however, the rest of my family was busy with their own pastimes. My mom, for instance, was over at my Grandpa's, where she has taken to dutifully redecorating in hopes of fixing up the sad house for rent one day. Unfortunately, as my now somewhat-confused Grandpa continues to reside there, her efforts are currently in vain, as she is often distracted from her remodeling by his increasingly strange dilemmas. Several weeks ago, for example, she was dealing with an interesting situation involving 3 fire engines and a team of baffled firemen who were summoned by my Grandpa's emergency beckon. Apparently, his caretaker was taking too long to change his diapers, and my Grandfather, who is never one to hesitate in calling for help, dialed the fire department briskly for more efficient assistance with his pants. Though surely a worthwhile call, the firemen were less than pleased for some reason, and my poor mother was left to clean up the mess. Instances like this, along with the occasional midnight call from my Grandpa wondering why the sun isn't up when his clock clearly says it's noon, have kept her preoccupied for the time being.

My dad, as well, has his fair share of pastimes. While other middle age men enjoy simple activities like grooming their facial hair and smoothing out their sweater vests, my dad, on the other hand, finds excitement in surreptitious acts like smuggling more loads of garage sale "treasures" (aka JUNK) into our already-cluttered house. Anything is fair game for his for his roaming eye: plastic Japanese trees, pig-themed salt and pepper shakers, decorative-goose lawn decor, live birds -- you name it, we've got it. Not even my mother's protests can stifle his grotesque garage-saling addiction. Despite our earnest pleas, more junk continues to pour in, and my dad's secret stash of garbage (hidden stealthily under his bed), grows at an alarming rate almost daily.

In addition to my parents and I, my house also holds an eclectic collection of international students, dogs, and second-hand birds (mentioned in the previous paragraph). Influences like these make for constantly entertaining mealtimes as my dad tries to explain (once again) to our bewildered Japanese guests the exactly proper way one should eat a taco. Meanwhile, our morbidly obese dog, Sweetie, begs for scraps of food under the table, and our cannibalistic garage-sale birds attempt to spear each other to death in the corner. Throw in a sister who's talking about her latest zombie photo shoot, a mom exhausted by midnight phone calls, and a few pig salt & pepper shakers, and you've got yourself an authentic evening at the Ailie household!

Now back to my profound revelation earlier this afternoon, I think it is quite evident why I have crowned myself with the Most Normal Person of the Year Award in the Ailie family. Though my dad, with his array of plastic geese, was a close runner up, the votes were tallied, and it looks like his honorary picture will have to wait to hang on the fridge until next year's judging, as I am the clear victor of 2010. Though I expect the competition for the title to be steep next year, let's face it, unless I do something offbeat like grow a third arm or become a geisha, I've probably got the whole Normal Trophy in the bag.