Wednesday, January 18, 2012

About That Sister of Mine

Last year, I posted more than a few "Denny" stories, in honor of his passing.

I don't really talk about my sister.

I'm not slighting her, there's a Lot of people I don't talk about. Furthermore, my family is pretty special to me, so blabbing all over a blog about them isn't something that feels very natural. For protective reasons - mainly of your gag reflex - I intentionally don't blog much about my kids except indirectly. Today I feel like talking about her, though.

She isn't much younger than me, so our teen years had some of the expected tension between sisters, and with only two notable exceptions that come to mind, we got on together pretty well once we finally had our own rooms. Despite the fact that at the time, she struck me as an 'act first, think later, there isn't a lot of time here anyway and I usually have a pretty good story handy...', she had some mind-blowingly smarter-than-me-moments. I had the book-thing, she had the people-thing. You may judge for yourself which smarts better serve your average teenaged girl!

My little sister is graced with knowing exactly who she is, and what she wants, and what she doesn't want. I should add that it's a good thing she is only half an inch or so taller than me. Many girls, and quite a few guys, have avoided being sent to the hospital because of this. She is tiny, has beautiful blue eyes, and a stunning smile. Even cuter - she has freckles.

And, she has no compunction about hitting people.

There are a few incidents that come to mind, but this is the one I will retell -  and if I get any details wrong, that girl will send corrections. (At least, I hope so - almost all her criticism to people she cares about - even a little - begins with '....not to be mean or anything...' and is routinely hilarious!)

We didn't see the dentist when we were kids, so as young adults, we all had to figure out questions like 'what is insurance thing?' We thought we were fine, but both she and I started nurturing a secret terror of dentists. You can just Imagine how healthy our teeth were. I got away scot-free until 21 or so, when bad insurance and a cavity or two drove me to Dr. "Evil" Christianson (yes, he was evil. Who else scolds the patient for her shaking, bouncing knees, with a drill in her mouth? Dentist Evil, That's Who.) My sister found a pretty good dentist, because after her pregnancy and delivery, she'd run out of luck in her young twenties and had a tooth problem or two.

One of those problems involved dry sockets - the sound of which makes my skin crawl, by the way. At this point, I think she was 23 or 24, and already needed a heart monitor when she went in for any dental care. She is the consummate fight-or-flight kind of gal -you already have an idea which way she goes. Since dentists don't get jobs by being utterly stupid (just evil), her dr. was in the habit of keeping his assistant behind her for this type of office visit. To keep my little sister from trying to punch him.


My little sister is compassionate, mouthy, full of conviction, bossy as hell, generous as the day is long, and utterly devoted to family. She is beautiful, smart in All the right ways, and more precious to me than gold. Both Denny and I always told each other we wanted to be her when we grew up. We don't talk as much as I would like, and she lives half a country away from me. Facebook and email help - she is the one I call first when I'm worried about my kids. She is also the one that thinks she is 'purtier' than I am, and will tell me so at the drop of a hat.

There. That is my sister. She is the stronger, funnier, smarter part of me, and each time we do talk, I secretly pray that part of her wit and strength will rub off on me, just a little bit more.

Thanks for being in my life, my sister.

Don't punch anyone today.


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