Thursday, April 21, 2011

Sister Bonding

Growing up, my older sister used to tell me that I was an alien.   I had beamed in on a spaceship which now cleverly doubled as our mailbox,  kidnapped the "real" Annie from her bed while she slept, and taken her place in the family.   "Na uh," I said somewhat desperately, "that didn't happen!" Yes it did, she assured me,  the fact that I didn't remember any of it was due to some backfiring of the mind control device I used to manipulate the other Annie into taking my place in space...and it was only a matter of time before my parents realized I wasn't their real daughter.   Damn, I thought.  My sister had an answer for everything and I was powerless against her skills of persuasion.  For the next couple of months I would nervously fidget under the covers when I heard sounds at night, afraid that my sister was right and the noise was the spaceship mailbox, loaded with alien people ready to force me away from all that I knew and take me back to planet Zardock.

Despite this story, one of many in which my sister terrorizes me during my upbringing, my sister and I actually got along reasonably well.   We made up plays together in the basement, she defended me against bullies on the school bus with a mighty swing of her backpack, and we played pollypocket together on Christmas morning while we waited for 7:00am to come so we could wake up our parents without fear of punishment.   Yet as childhood passed, my sister and I had a rough period where we grew apart as we grew into our own people.  It's easy to see why we didn't get along--we're opposites in every way.   I'm short, curvy, and pale while she is tanned, lanky, and tall(er, no one in my family is ACTUALLY tall).  We look sooo dissimilar, once, in a bar, when we said we were sisters the bartender thought it was a stupid lie we made up to pick up guys.   I'm sarcastic and cynical (clearly) and she's a sunny "peace and love" hippie.  I care about how I dress and Jeanie thinks sweat pants with an LMU t-shirt would be an appropriate outfit for school, a date, or a meeting with the president.  And don't get me started on her Moroccan hippie "elopement". . .

But despite our differences I spent an awesome day hanging out with her today.   Through a series of events she's living at home with my parents for a while and I'm home for Easter break.   Usually both of us being home at the same time is a recipe for catastrophe, but as of last night when I got home from Dayton, it's been pretty harmonious.   Last night, we watched Archer on Netflix, then danced around the kitchen with my mom to an imaginary square dance.   This morning, she barged into my room, completely naked, and flailed around wildly, screaming at me to get up.   We had lunch with my mom and Aunt Charlane at a French restaurant and Aunt Charlane told us all a story about  how my Grandma used to get up early so she could sit on her condo balcony and oggle the Navy Seals as they did their  morning P.T.  Then Jeanie and I went shopping at Easton.  First, I tried to explain to her the ethical ramifications of stealing a belt because it wasn't for sale except as attached to a "hoochie-ass" dress.  Then, in Express we had a personal conversation in our shared dressing room about nudity--just as the sales lady walked up to ask if everything was okay.  Finally, we rounded out the day, by talking loudly in country accents at Forever 21, and complaining that all the cute clothes were in plus sizes, citing size discrimination (against non-plus size people, obviously). 

You know, just a normal day with my crazy, hilarious, hippie, sister. Who I love. 

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