One of the best things about getting married is inheriting family. In my case, I added a mom, dad, sister, cousins, aunts, uncles, and a grandmother to my fold. One of the cousins is Danny, a very cool 20-something who is charming, funny, and always has the truest, most incisive insights. This past Saturday was Danny’s birthday so we gathered for dinner. The evening unfolded with its usual stories and jokes, teasing and plans, and then, after the dessert was cleared and the presents were opened, the talk at the table turned to a young woman who had broken one of Danny’s friend’s hearts, even though he should have known better than to get involved. “Maybe it was one of those cases of ‘she’s so pretty and she’s into me, so I’ll overlook the other stuff,'” I said. Danny sputtered. “She’s, She’s not pretty,” he said, incredulous. And then he picked up the butter knife that rested on the table between the two of us. “She’s this.” He stabbed the air with the butterknife, for effect. “She’s a butterknife,” someone at the table questioned. “I think Danny’s trying to say that she’s rail thin,” I offered. “And that’s not pretty!” Danny insisted. “This,” he said grabbing the bulbous ceramic water pitcher. “This is pretty,” he exclaimed, bringing the pitcher down with a bang. We laughed. We applauded. And then I thought, “every girl should inherit a cousin Danny.”
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