Back to the nuthouse

Last week I spent a couple of days among some of my sweet, crazy relatives. One of the dearest, nicest members of my family--let's call her Auntie X--is a rabid Democrat.

I like Auntie X. She's generous, kind, intelligent and cultured. I have to believe that she is a discerning woman because she loves to read and enjoys the same books I do. We both loved Medicus and Imperium., a book about Cicero. We both then read biographies of Cicero and found them fascinating. We both love Trollope, and have rad everything we could get our hands on of his.

She also has common sense and a sense of humor. So what's not to like?

Auntie X believes that Republicans eat human flesh, so I try to avoid political subjects when I am around her. I don't want to give the poor woman a heart attack. But she has no such compunction about me, I guess because the poor woman has no idea I am one of the Enemy. She is always handing me her copy of the New York Times, and suggesting I read Paul Krugman or Maureen Dowd. Or offering to lend me her copy of Richard Dawkins's book proving there is no God.

In this she resembles my cat Toby, who liked to bring me the bodies of small dead animals as a special treat and a token of his esteem. As with Toby, I appreciate the sentiment but would rather not.

So who's crazy here, me or her? Please advise.