I miss my sister today. Very much.

And because I do, I'm going to write about her.

My sister.
Her name is Theophanes.¹
She is special.
Very very special.
Let me tell you a story about Theophanes.
I went to visit her recently.
Well, back in May.
So, not so recent.
But recent enough.

And, while there, she bemoans to me how she can't get her white bathroom rugs to look clean even though she's washed them many times and in many different ways. So, we go to the laundromat to see if I can wield my awesome laundry powers and make some magic.²

My sister loads the rugs into the washer, she gets quarters out of her cute change purse, I ask her for the laundry detergent, and she hands it to me.

I look at it, I look at her, and then I start laughing.

And I, being the kind, generous, older sister that I am, feel the need to teach my sister how to read.

So I, being the kind, generous, older sister that I am, beckon to my very special, little sister to come read the bottle of detergent with me.

And I point to the bottle where it says in BIG, bold letters: SOFTENER.³

No wonder she couldn't get her white rugs to be whiter than white.

This is why I love my sister.

She does stoopid things.

That make me laugh.

And makes her friends laugh.

Even though she's quite smart.

She just doesn't know how to read.


¹Have you guys figured out the theme with names on my blog yet?^return
2I know, such excitement for a vacation.^return
3My sister thought Downy made laundry detergent as well as softener.^return

Awkward is...

...when you're in the middle of a conversation and you laugh so hard, a booger flies out from the depths of your left nostril. Except it doesn't fully dislodge from your nose, so it's dangling there by the sheer threads of its own mucosity. So then you're left with valiantly trying to guide the conversation towards a quick but not obvious end so that you can wipe the boogie off your red face but of course you're caught in the middle of a conversation that can't be concluded gracefully. So then you pray that the person you're talking to doesn't notice the booger that's on your face but of course they probably have and think you're the grossest human ever for being able to projectile shoot nose scum out of your honking nose. So, you know the boogie's there and the person you're talking to knows it's there but you both ignore it because it's the polite thing to do and you both try to keep your minds on the conversation except you're both probably thinking about the dangling booger and you wonder if you can angle your hand the right way to surreptitiously wipe it away except that's gross because you'd be wiping your snot with  your bare hands and then you'd have snot on your hands and that might be more gross than it hanging from your nose while you talked to this person. But, you're so embarrassed at this point that you don't care, so you try to furtively wipe at your nose like it's nothing and then realize you've now smeared the fucking booger all across your fucking upper lip and you cuss at your fucking luck, at the shittiness of it all and just kind of give up. And then the person you're talking to, either because she pities you or because she's tired of talking to someone with snot on her face, mercifully ends the conversation and walks away. And you frantically grab a tissue and wipe the booger off. And THEN, with the sullied tissue in hand, you think to yourself: why didn't I just say excuse me, grab a tissue, and blow my nose? Problem solved. And then you think: why didn't I think of this sooner? And then you smack your own forehead and shake your head.

I curse my faulty left nostril.

If I've ever shot nose boogies at you while talking to you, I'm sorry.

i'm feeling . . .

. . . like this today:

photo by freckled mommy