We so HOOOOOOOOOOD!

DETROIT -- I headed to the hall for Grandma's 80th birthday party, pondering the coon casserole of enormous proportions that had already been served up in the four hours I'd been in town.

Relatives were bickering. The program and the decorations weren't done, and the party was starting at 5. The only thing on the buffet was turkey and dressing Grandma had made.

That's right, they duped Grandma into making her birthday dinner.

There are things I expect from my family. They won't be on time. They won't do what they're supposed to do. If there's work involved, a select few, as always, will pick up the slack.

I got to town Saturday afternoon with intentions to stay away from Grandma's house. That would've spoiled her surprise party. I also had no plans to work for the weekend. I pulled a nearly 60-hour workweek that I wasn't getting paid for, and I felt this weekend would be a needed break.

As always I was wrong.

"What kind of car do you have?" my mother asked me as I watched my sister furiously cooking away in her kitchen.

"A Kia Sportage. The little SUV," I told her.

"Good. Lont's at the balloon shop on Kelly Road, but you're fine. I think they almost got it."

You know who raised you when they can easily hoodwink you into volunteering yourself for odd tasks.

Needless to say, I ended up at the balloon shop, carrying 20 balloons over to the hall where the party would be held.

At 5, I called my mother. Only two of Grandma's five children were present. One was to get her to the party, so that made three.

"Nette and Grandma will be here in 15 minutes," I told her, urgency obvious in my voice.

"OK?" she said, not worried about her tardiness.

The party went well for the most part. There was a lot of ad-libbing for the part my cousin Sean was supposed to do. Then, because the planners showed up after the guest of honor, the program was thrown out the door.

Grandma sat in the middle of the dance floor holding up a tall, clear glass for money consumption. My cousins and I were to each place $50 in the glass.

At least, that was the plan.

Three cousins stuck their money into a card. Their tally would be known only to Grandma when she opened the card. We all knew it would be less than the expected $150.

One cousin and her husband slid $5 bills into the cup, the husband promising to paint her house.

Another planted a kiss on her cheek. Not amused, she raised the glass higher, her hand slightly trembling from the stretch.

Mike and Angela put in more than $50. I added $100, backed with an explanation for outdoing the others to take away the attention.

Once the party died down, I grabbed a piece of cake from the back table, vowing to not get suckered into more work before the night was over. But when the DJ started packing up his stuff, two of my cousins stood nearby, watching the frail older man as he tried in vain to lift a heavy speaker.

I left the party with my hands filled with a 70 pound light set DJ Smitty used to keep us entertained. As the swinging doors closed, I watched as one of my cousins took a bite out of my piece of cake.

I wouldn't expect anything less.