Let's start by a simple admission of guilt. My aunt through marriage was seated next to us at a local restaurant last night. I was on a tight schedule so Kevin and I were grabbing a fast bite before I had to head back for rehearsal. I didn't want to get into a conversation. So I didn't. 

Moving on.

While we were eating, Kevin cupped his right hand over the side of his mouth,  pointed their direction with his left pointer finger and said:

"Don't say anything, but I think they are related to me."

I spit out my food, peed my pants and informed him at that point that they were MY relatives.

Ever have split-your-sides laughter quietly :) 

We giggled about that through the rest of our dinner (what a tool) and it spawned memories of HIS great-aunt who when he was single (and dating moi) entrusted to him a precious charcoal portrait of another relative, thinking Kevin would appreciate the artistic nature of the heirloom. He did. Which is why he is haunted to this day recalling the moment he tossed his shoe into his apartment closet. Right through that little heirloom. Oh, the years he spent dreading Christmas at his parents knowing full well this aunt would be there and routinely ask him about that picture. With her passing he was finally able to let that go. I thought. Apparently, it still lies there underneath, a fear of some lost relative tracking it down. Sounds like April 1st material if you ask me....

"Don't say anything but I think they are related to me." 

Crack. Me. Up.