One of my older sisters called me last night to invite me to her annual Fourth of July backyard BBQ. A little background: My two older sisters are from my mother's first marriage and their father was of American Indian and/or Italian descent. Therefore, my sisters have olive skin, dark hair, and tan easily. Ten years later, my mother married an Irishman and ended up with two extremely pale third and fourth daughters. My sister and I have the same conversation every year in early July:
My sister: So we're going to be grilling burgers and dogs.
Me: I no longer eat red meat. But how about if I bring some chicken?
Sister: Seriously?
Me: Veggie burgers?
Sister: Not on MY grill.
Me: I like mom's potato salad.
Sister: Bring your bathing suit - we just had the pool cleaned!
Me: Have you met me?
Sister: Just saying...we got new rafts!
Me: I haven't owned a bathing suit in 10 years. And I don't go in the sun. You know how you and Kristin make jokes about me looking like Wednesday Adams with red hair?
Sister: I thought we made jokes about you being flat-assed.
Me: That too.
Sister: And flat-chested. And remember before you got braces when we used to call you Bucky Beaver?
Me: Yeah, that was hysterical.
Sister: At least you finally got boobs. ANYWAY...just put on some sunblock! And bring your suit.
Me (giving up): OK.
Even though they don't care if I get skin cancer and believe that I am pale by choice and I think olive-skinned people enjoy lording their sun worshipping over those of us who are melanin-deficient, I love my family. And I will go to the cookout. I'm just going to bring a giant parasol, a long-sleeved tee, and 60SPF - but not my bathing suit that doesn't exist. And yes, at least I finally got boobs.
Showing posts with label sisters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sisters. Show all posts
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
You know how sometimes...
...the best thing you can say about a day is that you were upright throughout most of it? And that you're not taking your foul mood out on anyone else? And that you're holding it together even though you really don't want to?
Yes, all of that - and then your 3-year-old nephew goes and gets himself a tattoo. Or, at least, your sister sends you a picture of your nephew with a fake tattoo and you laugh and the rest of it seems like...well, not much at all.
You know how it is, right?
Yes, all of that - and then your 3-year-old nephew goes and gets himself a tattoo. Or, at least, your sister sends you a picture of your nephew with a fake tattoo and you laugh and the rest of it seems like...well, not much at all.
You know how it is, right?
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Sibling secret languages...
I've always been fascinated by the secret language of twins (and siblings born close together). My mother had her daughters in pairs. My older sisters are 8 and 10 years older than I am and there's a two year age difference between me and my younger sister Katie.
Katie and I had what I think could be considered a secret language, or at least a language that meant something to us but that other people couldn't understand. We still use it from time to time. Katie used to sing a song whenever she had to use the restroom (because my mother thought it was crass to say "I have to pee"...or worse), so Katie sang "skidamarinkadinkadoodle" (I have no idea how one would spell that - it started when she was 3 or 4). It came from a song my grandmother used to sing to us. Later, we shortened it to just "doodle."
We used to make up meanings for words we heard and liked but didn't know what the definition was. At around 3 and 5 years old, we still took baths together and made shampoo horns from our hair and called each other "three-horned butler" and giggled hysterically. "Butler" was a funny word. Probably because it has the word "but" (or "butt") in it. I remember a moving day when we left Guam and we were playing between the boxes in the driveway. One was marked "sewing" (my mother sewed back then) and my sister spelled it out loud and asked me what it meant. I told her it was our "sea wings" - the rafts we used to use in the ocean water pool in our neighborhood. I just made it up, because even at 5 years old, I didn't like to admit I didn't know something. I could spell "together" when I was 5, but apparently not "sewing." Others: "Button jam" was a signal to flee. I can't explain that if I tried. "Peapie" meant "cute," later shortened to "peep."
My older sister Kristin and I still call each other "seester" instead of "sister." I don't know where that came from. She must have started that one. She also calls Katie "hoop" because her middle name is "hope." I can't think of any good examples of Kristin and Karen languages because the only thing I really remember about them is a lot of knock-down, drag out fights before Karen went to live with my grandmother when I was 6 or 7.
I love my sisters and that we're all still so close as adults. Unlike some of my friends, I actually look forward to holidays and family gatherings and the time we can spend together. They make me laugh like no-one else can. They were there for the whole show of our childhood and an outsider will never be able to understand us like we understand each other. They're the part of my "weird little world" that I didn't get to choose, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
And today is my nephew's third birthday (my sister Katie's son and the only boy in our family). He's our peep. And if Katie doesn't get his first haircut soon, he will also be our three-horned butler.
Katie and I had what I think could be considered a secret language, or at least a language that meant something to us but that other people couldn't understand. We still use it from time to time. Katie used to sing a song whenever she had to use the restroom (because my mother thought it was crass to say "I have to pee"...or worse), so Katie sang "skidamarinkadinkadoodle" (I have no idea how one would spell that - it started when she was 3 or 4). It came from a song my grandmother used to sing to us. Later, we shortened it to just "doodle."
We used to make up meanings for words we heard and liked but didn't know what the definition was. At around 3 and 5 years old, we still took baths together and made shampoo horns from our hair and called each other "three-horned butler" and giggled hysterically. "Butler" was a funny word. Probably because it has the word "but" (or "butt") in it. I remember a moving day when we left Guam and we were playing between the boxes in the driveway. One was marked "sewing" (my mother sewed back then) and my sister spelled it out loud and asked me what it meant. I told her it was our "sea wings" - the rafts we used to use in the ocean water pool in our neighborhood. I just made it up, because even at 5 years old, I didn't like to admit I didn't know something. I could spell "together" when I was 5, but apparently not "sewing." Others: "Button jam" was a signal to flee. I can't explain that if I tried. "Peapie" meant "cute," later shortened to "peep."
My older sister Kristin and I still call each other "seester" instead of "sister." I don't know where that came from. She must have started that one. She also calls Katie "hoop" because her middle name is "hope." I can't think of any good examples of Kristin and Karen languages because the only thing I really remember about them is a lot of knock-down, drag out fights before Karen went to live with my grandmother when I was 6 or 7.
I love my sisters and that we're all still so close as adults. Unlike some of my friends, I actually look forward to holidays and family gatherings and the time we can spend together. They make me laugh like no-one else can. They were there for the whole show of our childhood and an outsider will never be able to understand us like we understand each other. They're the part of my "weird little world" that I didn't get to choose, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
And today is my nephew's third birthday (my sister Katie's son and the only boy in our family). He's our peep. And if Katie doesn't get his first haircut soon, he will also be our three-horned butler.
