When my family (the one to which I was born) wants to describe a winding, convoluted digression, they call it "A Stacey Story". It's embarrassing, but I tell the sort of story I like to hear - detailed, lengthy, and suspenseful. I have been practicing for years the art of cutting to the chase, especially now that life is busy and I have so little time for jawing, but once upon a time......
My own family (the one which I bore) has its own term for these diatribes of mine, beginning many Christmases ago after I discovered a game called "Dogopoly" advertised in a magazine. The savory tale of how this magazine was found by accident in the bathroom trashcan (with the discovery of the cool game being the denouement) was meant to amuse Allie. She absorbed it quietly, saying nothing. However, when I attempted to treat the boys to said story an hour later, she cut me off mid-sentence with a deadpan, "Dogopoly."
This is now my children's phrase of choice when, dog-like, I return to my own vomit and hold forth at too great a length.
"Dogopoly."
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