My Sister

I've had this blog for three years now, and I keep forgetting to tell you all the story of my sister. It's a big story for me, and I always wanted to wait until I could tell it just right, but I'm not sure there is a "just right" way. And it deserves to be told, it's important.

So! In the spring of 2001, I found out I have a sister. My mom gave her up for adoption before I was born. Then she met my dad, they got married, and they started our family. Mom didn't tell me about her daughter, because she never knew if she'd try to contact her. She didn't want me to always wonder about her. Well, in 2001, Mom didn't have to wonder anymore. She got in contact with her, and wanted to meet us. We met her. Her name is Rachel. She's due to have a baby around Labor Day.

I went through a lot of weird stuff when I found out. I wished I had known. I went through some crazy bad times, some lonely times when I was in school, and I know I would have felt better had I been able to think about my sister being out there somewhere. Even if I'd never met her, it would have been possible, and that would have been cool.

I do understand why Mom didn't tell us, though, because it was painful for her and she wanted to spare us some of that pain. I'm happy that she made the choice she did, mostly because I'm not sure I'd be here if she'd have kept the baby.

Sometimes I think it screwed me up in the head a little bit. I think it messed me up a little bit to think I was the first child when I really wasn't. I think it had a bearing on the way I turned out. None of this is Rachel's fault, but for a while, I resented her.

Needless to say, I'm a big proponant of honesty with children. Creativity and imagination are wonderful, and I won't ever quash them, but honesty is important. I'm not talking about abolishing Santa Claus, but definitely acknowledging the Rachels.

Update on the Cow (and Other Things)

Me: Howdy, neighbor!

Him: Good morning! How are you?

Me: Good. Say, I have a question for you...

Him: Shoot.

Me: What do you make of the cow?

Him: ...[Looks at me like I might be crazy]... Hmmm, what cow?

Me: ...

Cow: mmmMOOOOOOO!

Does that cow have timing, or does that cow have timing?

(We decided that what the neighbor makes of the cow is that I should call the person in charge of neighborhood cows. I called yesterday morning, the fella said he'd send someone down, and as of tonight, there is still a cow. I can tell from the mmmMOOOOOOO!ing.)

In other news, I partially ran over the kitten with my office chair today. He cried, I panicked. I couldn't find anything overtly wrong with him and he didn't flinch when I prodded him all over, so I assumed he was fine. I monkeyed around online, took the dog outside, got a glass of wine, etc. Then realized I hadn't seen the kitten in a while. Called for him all over the house (Stiiiiinky, Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiinky! STINKY!!!) to no avail. Kept calling and searching for 15 minutes or more before losing all of my shit. Kept picturing poor kitten hiding in a closet somewhere dying from internal injuries from desk chair, too weak to meow a response. Wanted to call Bruce, but he's working and can do very very little from 750 miles away. Called best friend instead, and best friend talked me down. Three minutes after hanging up with her, I found him in the bottom drawer of my desk, sleeping. I called her back to tell her he hadn't died of internal smooshing and heard her boyfriend in the background, feigning great distress and generally mocking me. Now I'm not sure what to do. I understand on a fundamental level why it was very funny for me to be freaking out, because it was highly unlikely that the kitten would be dying in a closet, but at the same time? It wasn't very funny to me. Also, I feel like he could have waited until she hung up to make fun of me. Am I wrong?

I've been reading another book by one of my very favorite authors, Anna Maxted. When we were camping, I read Behaving Like Adults, and it was possibly the best novel I've read in a long time. (Except for Goodbye, Lemon, by Adam Davies, another one of my very favorite authors.) After finishing the Anna Maxted, I came home and borrowed another one straight away from the library. Halfway through Being Committed, I found the most amusing passage about an old song, one that echos my own feelings:

Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me,
I'm off to Alabama with a banjo on my knee!

I heard the tune on one of Jude's plastic toys and recalled the words out of nowhere. And wondered why Susanna would waste her time moping after a man who was so plainly a conceited idiot--moseying off to Alabama with a banjo, daring to imagine her distraught?! She was probably glad to see the back of him--him, his silly banjo, and his unrealistic view of job opportunities in the music business. Susanna--I imagined her demure and blond, in a checked pinafore, baby blue and white--was probably too well brought up to tell him she loathed his banjo playing and him.

Bottoms-R-Us

Last week, my mom mentioned how hard it is for my sister to be pregnant, how she's probably the only pregnant lady that's ever existed to be this pregnant, and how funny all of that is.  And it is, because we all knew (more or less) that this would be how it would be, because she's that way.  Everything is more when it happens to my sister.  I think part of it stems back to her adoption, and her early childhood.  But it's still funny.  Get my drift?

I was talking with Lee Ann about it on the day I got the kitten, and mentioned how Rach was complaining to my mom about her "bottom" hurting, and how it hurt worse than she'd ever have imagined, as if she were the first pregnant lady to have that particular problem.  Lee Ann informed me that it was actually common, and she wasn't surprised that she'd been talking about it, because it's sort of, well, all-encompassing, and it takes over your mind when it happens.  I was a little alarmed, and felt bad for making fun of my sister for talking about it, because apparently it would be slightly more alarming if she wasn't bringing it up to everyone.  Then I told her that Rach was due at the end of August.  

"Oh!" said Lee Ann.  "Usually that doesn't happen until much later."

There you go.  The most pregnant of all the women that ever were.

Intruducing: Stinky

Welcome home, Stinky! You're going to be a great addition to our little family, I can tell already. Linus is already getting used to you (mostly), and for Huck, well, you were love at first sight. Too bad you weren't quite as fond of him, but nevermind! The affection, it will come after the tolerance, I'm sure of it!

You cried for the first 48 hours, unless you were asleep. If you were playing, eating, drinking, pooping, or wondering where I was, you cried. Three days later, and you're only crying when I leave the house. And sometimes when you clean yourself. You're down to 20 hours a day, and that's a huge improvement! What a brave kitty!

You are the greyest kitty I've ever met, not a shred of pink about you. Not even the pads of your feet are pink. Your tongue is the only bit that isn't grey, and it's very cute because of that.

You're going to love your new home. I guarantee it.

Auntie Sunny

Sometime at the end of the summer, I'll finally become an aunt. To Owen. Yeah, that's right.

When I heard the name for the first time (last week), I breathed a sigh of relief. At least it's not a name I'd choose for my own kid. You don't know how cranky I'd have been if she'd chosen one of my names. (Shayla? No, but my version of it.)

Vacation was effing great. I'm so tanned that I don't really resemble myself anymore. I catch my own eye in the mirror and scare myself. I shouldn't have hair this dark if I'm going to tan this quickly. It ain't right.

I got to spend many hours of fun and frolic with my mom's cousins' kids and Hannah and Phil. They're so awesome at this age. I'll always remember how, when we were out swimming in the lake full of waves, Phil would inadvertantly get a mouthful of waves. I would pick him up, clap his back, and tell him to let me kwow when he'd caught his breath. After the first episode, I'd barely get him out of the water before he'd sputter, "Cot mine breff!" Later, he told me, "That swimming was my best."

Speaking of nieces and nephews, Hannah got her ears pierced today, for her birthday. She was the bravest girl, when they pulled the triggers, I could tell she wanted to cry, but she didn't. She was a brave girl. I've got some pictures, maybe I'll share one tomorrow.

ALONG WITH MY KITTEN PICTURES! Yeah, that's right. I'm gettin' a kitten. Tomorrow.

V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N (Placeholder of DOOOM!)

I'm going camping tomorrow, until at least next week Thursday. (If I have anything to say about it, it'll be later than that before I come back home.) I'm so looking forward to this, my family's been doing it for about twenty years now, and it's been perfected.

We've got all the supplies we need, we're well-established and even recognize some of the other campers from year to year. When we started going, I was seven. Now the older cousins who hadn't even been married back then have kids who are going into high school next year. They're taller than I am. This is amazing.

We camp next to the most beautiful lake I've ever seen, with crystal clear water and practically no vegetation. In water up to your neck, you can gaze down and see the grains of sand on your toes. It's the most perfect place I've been.

This year, it's going to be even better, because my brother is coming with us. I can't wait until tomorrow. If you need me, I'll be holding my breath over here.

Last Straw

Sarah: OMG there's a place in SW MO selling CHEESE CURDS
http://www.localharvest.org/farms/M10790

bruce: LMAO
nice

Sarah: That's it, I can move back now
:D

Dead Horse? Beaten

I think one of my oldest friends and I are drifting apart.  When I look back on the years, it's been happening for quite some time, but it's still stingy, you know what I mean?

She's always been a black-and-white person. I have a huge quadrant of grey. Huge. Most people would think I'm dull to be so accepting. I realized a few months ago that part of the reason we've been friends for so long is that I think she's mind-boggling. She's so different. In that she's so snooty about so many things.

I don't know. I didn't used to feel this way about her. She didn't used to be so crabby and judgemental. I can feel our friendship slipping away, and I'm honestly not sure what kept me holding on for so long.

This feeling isn't pleasant.

Steam Engine, 4th

Don't hit play at work, it's loud.  You've been warned.



This has been the soundtrack to my 4th of July parade since I was in the womb.  Recently, I had to miss a couple of years due to being in Missouri, but I was back full-force this year.  It did me good to see all the familiar faces and sights.  My little cousins that I used to sling over my shoulder and carry around are now taller than I am.  Next week we'll be going camping and I'll get to know them a little better.  

It's not fair that they turned into people when I wasn't looking.  

Bliss

Remember my never-ending (sometimes slightly less all-encompassing, but nevertheless vigilant) search for cotton candy ice cream?  

Kemps has a special edition out in stores now.  Go, ye ice cream craving bastards.  

I'm Ready to be an M&M

Make your own here.

Circle of Life

One time in college, I was in the coffee shop when I got a panicked call from my mom.  She couldn't figure out why the internet box wouldn't let her read the whole line.  She was border-line hysterical, and it took me about ten minutes to figure out what she was talking about, and another five to explain the concept of maximized and minimized windows.  It was hell.

I just had a similar conversation with her.  It wasn't until I was off the phone that I realized it's been about five years since that college story.  I'm getting old.

Happy Birthday, Lisahhhhh!

Lonesome

I almost had a bonfire tonight.  Then I realized that I can't picture sitting around a bonfire by myself.  (First of all:  painful to attempt that.)

I miss my B.  I want that house he's looking at, the one with the giant yard, where Huck could run free while we had a bonfire and talked.  Where I could grow an enormous garden, or maybe have the same amount of vegetables, spread out so that I'm not growing a jungle.  Maybe we could get a goat?  Probably not a goat.  I think it's just the knowlege that we could have a goat that I like about that place.  You think that if they allow a goat, they'd allow chickens, right?  Maybe a couple of chickens.  (Whenever I think about my desire for chickens, I think of this bookwhich, by the way, is a very good book.)

This is pretty much a stream-of-consciousness post, and my consciousness is being interrupted by the fireworks, so I'll leave you to your day.  Carry on, and all that.