Tonight B’s aunt and uncle (B’s mother’s brother) joined us at the house for dinner. I guess when they first arrived they shared a little “secret” with B’s parents, which we weren’t told until dinner was almost over.
It would seem that B’s cousin went to see a psychic. Near the end of the session, the woman told her that one of her family members was having difficulty crossing over in the afterlife (although she hadn’t said anything about her family up to that point). She was told it was her paternal grandmother.
They had decided that they would pray for her (thankfully not right then). And B’s mother bragged about how she was already having a mass said for her each week at 8am on Sunday. I managed not to roll my eyes or gag.
But I couldn’t help myself and told them this was a bunch of nonsense. You go to a psychic because of the entertainment value. Why you would believe what they say?
I added that the next time B’s cousin feels the need to see a psychic, she should just take the money, put it in an envelope, and mail it to us. We’ll do something fun with it.
I knew they were crazy and gullible, but just not how much. Then again, B’s father admitted to letting a medicine man (for lack of a better term) poke holes in his foot in an effort to cure his gout. No, really.