My Annual Report
Every year I find myself eulogizing about December 2nd living in infamy. For decades I've had the honor of telling others about a wonderful, super special person that I am so blessed to call my sister and the day of her birth, December 2nd.
You didn't really think I was going to be that sappy, now did you? I'm not going to go into the "she's so old" routine, for a change. I think I'll tell you some other stuff that she's a little less embarrassed about.
Many years ago we were out in the front yard one night looking up at the sky. I forget the occasion or even if there was one, an eclipse perhaps, but she was looking at the moon through a pair of binoculars. After several minutes of moon gazing she complained that she was getting a crick in her neck and decided to move further back in the yard to get a better angle. I'm sure Galileo did this a couple of times himself. I'm also sure the billionth of a degree difference this made in the angle did more to increase the pain in her butt since we've reminded her about it yearly for eons than it did to lessen the crick in her neck.
Another delightful time was a few years back when she and I decided to have a yard sell at her house. I arrived at the agreed upon time of about 6:00 a.m. on Saturday morning only to find that no one was awake. After knocking and ringing the doorbell for several minutes I was standing at the back door looking through the window, cursing under my breath, when lo and behold my sister comes sauntering out of the kitchen and onto the back porch into plain view wearing a bra and socks. And for clarification, ONLY a bra and socks. I do remember they were tube socks but after that I'm a blank. All I know is that I DID NOT make enough money in the yard sale to cover damages.
There was another yard sale that I did not participate in but have it on good authority that she sold a chest of drawers complete with a dead possum in one of the drawers, unbeknownst to the buyer. I'll guarantee she'll deny this and blame it on her husband.
Anyway, I hope she has a happy birthday and gets something she can really enjoy...like new tube socks.
You didn't really think I was going to be that sappy, now did you? I'm not going to go into the "she's so old" routine, for a change. I think I'll tell you some other stuff that she's a little less embarrassed about.
Many years ago we were out in the front yard one night looking up at the sky. I forget the occasion or even if there was one, an eclipse perhaps, but she was looking at the moon through a pair of binoculars. After several minutes of moon gazing she complained that she was getting a crick in her neck and decided to move further back in the yard to get a better angle. I'm sure Galileo did this a couple of times himself. I'm also sure the billionth of a degree difference this made in the angle did more to increase the pain in her butt since we've reminded her about it yearly for eons than it did to lessen the crick in her neck.
Another delightful time was a few years back when she and I decided to have a yard sell at her house. I arrived at the agreed upon time of about 6:00 a.m. on Saturday morning only to find that no one was awake. After knocking and ringing the doorbell for several minutes I was standing at the back door looking through the window, cursing under my breath, when lo and behold my sister comes sauntering out of the kitchen and onto the back porch into plain view wearing a bra and socks. And for clarification, ONLY a bra and socks. I do remember they were tube socks but after that I'm a blank. All I know is that I DID NOT make enough money in the yard sale to cover damages.
There was another yard sale that I did not participate in but have it on good authority that she sold a chest of drawers complete with a dead possum in one of the drawers, unbeknownst to the buyer. I'll guarantee she'll deny this and blame it on her husband.
Anyway, I hope she has a happy birthday and gets something she can really enjoy...like new tube socks.
I have not yet decided just how I am going to get you back, but trust me, Bubba, you are toast. Burnt toast. And to think that I was worried that it was the 4th grade picture resurfacing.
Reply to this
Get ME back? I was the one permanently scarred!! And to top it off...I don't think your socks matched.
Reply to this