if we took a holiday...

I can tell you the exact moment I met my sisters-in-law.

It was at our family's St. Patrick's Day party. I was in third grade. They came as a packaged deal and endured the Guckeen Family Interrogation together. Cousins and uncles and all.

I think the stress alone would be enough to give me high blood pressure for the rest of my life.

As the baby of the family by roughly two decades, I try my best to keep my love life where it belongs-- far away from my happily married for 10+ years siblings. It reduces the amount of times I have to give them the "That's easy for you to say" glare whenever they decide to ask why I'm still only RSVPing for 1 at our family functions.

Some may argue that I'm missing out on classic sisterly bonding time. But the last time I announced to my sisters I was serious about some boy one of them googled him, found a picture of him online, and then emailed the rest of the family. Unsuspectingly going for a glass of 2% milk and some cookies the next time I was in Minnesota, I found him taped to the fridge, right next to the Christmas 1995 picture of me in 5th grade opening my stocking.

His picture stayed magnetized to the Guckeen Family fridge for over a year, until thankfully, it was removed before his wedding invitation arrived in my mailbox.

I haven't been home since Christmas. And while I can hit the ignore button in my email account or on my cell phone (which for the record I do not do to my siblings), I can't easily run away when all 8 of them are ganging up on me with the relationship questions-- especially if they get their kids involved.

16 on 1 is just not fair.

But I'm braving the Guckeen firestorm this weekend anyway. I figure I'll have 6.5 hours to think up answers to all the possible questions they'll ask me come Sunday about my online dating adventures. And then another 6.5 hours to rehash all the embarrassing moments come Monday.

I'll be taking a mini holiday from the blog-- returning Tuesday. I can't just bilocate from Wisconsin to Minnesota after all. Such a drive takes time.

Not to mention several packages of milk duds and a least a few close calls with the Wisconsin State Patrol, arguably the sneakiest men in uniform on the face of the planet.