It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time…

The metaphor works like this - I have all these different things going on in my life, different stuff I’m doing or stuff I’ve done or (mostly) stuff I want to do, different people and situations, different events going on in the lives of those I care about, yadda yadda yadda, and the only way they ALL connect is me – I am the jello, they are the chunks of whatever that’s embedded in the jello.  That actually sounds pretty gross and really self centered, but in my head it made a lot of sense and didn’t sound nearly as conceited as it does when I re-read it.  That’s how it tends to work most of the time, really – if it sounds good in my head, I should probably ask someone impartial and find out if it sounds good out loud.  Oh well, too late now.

**sidenote – my friends and family and other “chunks” are way important, more important than me by far.  Just a quick disclaimer so that the 3 people who read this know I’m not a total douche.**

Instead of trying to wade through my jello-y self to get to each individual chunk (ewww), I just wanted to talk about my sister.  I hope she doesn’t get offended that I want to write about her under an entry titled “Sometimes I feel like my life is a jello salad.”, I don’t think she will.  She might correct my punctuation on that last sentence, I think it’s wrong.  I don’t care enough to go back and fix it, but I care enough to make a point to mention it.  Funny how that works. 

Anyway, my sister Dondi is three years older than me.  She has a birthday coming up at the end of this month.  She is a Leo.  She is the same height as I am, but that’s sort of a new development in the last 5 years or so… when we were little, I always felt like the short, chubby, ugly one and I always thought my sister was so pretty and slender and tall.  She wore all the cute clothes, and my clothes never seemed to fit quite right.  She dated boys like Zach who were blonde and handsome and played sports, and I dated boys that shall remain nameless, but were decidedly not blonde, handsome, and athletic. 

We used to fight like wild animals when we were both adolescents.  I don’t know if sisters are more vicious to each other than brothers, but we were brutal.  I remember a spike in physical violence among us when we both started to use the phone a lot… this is before cell phones, and our mom never got us separate lines, so the cordless house phone was like God after school.  Man.  There was one time when I wanted to talk on the phone and she was on it, and I stole the cord that linked the base of the phone to the jack in the wall, then ran up to my room and locked the door.  It took her all of 45 seconds to figure out what I’d done, and then she ran up to my room, kicked my door in (it was hollow core – the girl’s not Hercules), and I threw the cord at her in hopes that she wouldn’t throttle me.  She didn’t, as is evident by the fact that I am here writing and we’re friends today. 

It took a while for us to get close, though.  It took a lot of heartbreak for old wounds between us to heal… we still aren’t Hallmark commercial close, but we are certainly friends today, as well as sisters.  When she calls me, I call her back or I answer, if I can.  When I call her, the same thing happens.  We text.  We email.  I send her stupid surveys and she dutifully fills them out.  She takes care of our mom now, and that is so huge.  That used to be such a sore spot for the two of us, and I’m so incredibly grateful we’ve gotten past the whole “Mom loves you best” fight.  I think that Dad dying had a lot to do with that, as well as me being in Charlotte (2200 miles away from the madre) and her being in Boulder (50 miles away from the madre).  She listens to me whenever I call her freaking out about a boy, or something physically wrong with me, or missing Andy or my dad.  She comforts me and lifts me up, and she never makes me feel bad for the decisions I’ve made.  She gives me running advice and tells me how to better lengthen my stride.  I know that if I ever needed anything, she’d be there in half a second, and that if I ask nicely, she’ll probably let me borrow her sparkly eyeliner.

I think I might have more tattoos than her now… maybe.  ;)