I kid you not, two nights ago my sister laughed for 10 minutes straight when I asked her to be the person to pull the plug on me. 10 minutes.
This is the sort of humor that my family has.
Every Easter and Christmas my Great Grandmother, then Grandmother, made carrot bread. Lin and I loved this bread, it was our favorite part of the meal. A few years ago my Dad took over and it's as good as it ever was. Or so I have to suppose- I'm not home for most holidays so I miss out. Not this last year, though, my Dad made an extra batch just for me and he went out into that horrible Christmas storm (with his friend Hermy, who wanted to be a dentist) to overnight me this wonderful bread.
This Easter my folks are in Florida and my Dad made a batch of the bread ignoring all the guilt, promises, and threats of nursing homes that Lin and I could throw at him. His response was to send my sister and I this photo of them eating carrot bread.
Yep, that's my folks. Notice the smile of pure evil joy on my father. Those of you who've known me for any time should now see that this sort of behavior is genetic. My Dad and Lin are better at this than I am. So, when my dear sister laughs at my eventual doom and how she's going to go around the hospital room pulling any cord plugged into a wall, I can't blame her. One, it's funny. Two, look at my Dad's face again. That's where she gets it.
Go in Peace