Little Sister, Big Sister

I had a pretty crappy day today, and when this happens, I find myself letting my mind wander to far away (and long ago) places. I read an article about clowns today (somewhere on the internet), and it made me think of my sister.


My sister *loved* clowns. In the house I spent my early years in, my sister had a room full of clowns. I think she even had some form of clown wall paper at one point, but I can't be sure. (That actually might have been my room, but it would have been long before I was capable of making decorating decisions on my own... so I'll blame it on my mom.) Anyway, I do clearly recall the dozens of clown figurines she had.


They scared the be-gee-zus out of me.


It was really a horrible thing, too, because I always loved to have little mini-slumber parties in her room, and I would have to really psych myself up to be able to go to sleep. I could see all of these big noses and painted cheshire grins, and I could feel my tiny heart pounding as it attempted to leap out of my chest.


It probably didn't help any that my sister would sometimes goad my fear just a tiny bit. I'll give her credit - most of the time she told wonderful stories about houses made out of candy and princesses in far away lands. But sometimes... she would introduce me to her "pets".


We were both born with a curious kind of imagination, and she used hers to invent these "invisible animals" that slept above her bed. It would've been okay (probably) if she'd picked kindly animals like ponies or kittens, but no, she once told me that she had a pet spider... and that it was going to crawl on me...


While I slept.


Can you think of anything scarier to a seven year old girl? Scarier than an invisible spider that will crawl on you while you sleep?


I think not.


I think she told me these stories on the nights when she really wanted to sleep alone, but they never deterred me. I would lay there in the dark and listen to her breathe, praying that I would feel anything creepy or crawly.


And I don't know if she ever realized this or not, but the whole reason I was able to sleep was because I would always think to myself that she would protect me (from her invisible pets, ha!).


And she did.


Sometimes she still does.

The Best Laid Plans

Wonder of all wonders, my husband had a day off yesterday. It wasn't a sad little half-day, either (you know, when he has to go in for three hours and then come back home). No, he had an entire day to do whatever he pleased. We've actually been planning what we were going to do on this marvelous day off together for almost two weeks.

Thursday we finally decided that we would make a trip down to Florida to visit a few stores and, basically, spend the day wasting time and enjoying each other's company. We were very excited about our plans, and we actually spent half of the day before talking about all the nice things we were going to do.

Friday morning I woke up at nine a.m. (isn't it nice to sleep in?). D was still asleep, so I flipped through T.V. channels and watched a few episodes of "House". By eleven, I figured out that he wasn't going to wake up, and by noon, I figured out that our day wasn't going to go at all how we had planned it.

Finally, my sleepy husband wandered into the waking world, and he made some cute comment about possibly still going out of town (as if it still might happen). I humored him for the moment, and for my smiles and good nature, he made me lunch (a chicken salad sandwich and broccoli potato soup).

That alone was worth skipping the trip. It's always cute to watch him cook.

All in all, it was a wonderful day. We went and picked up dinner from a wonderful seafood restaurant, and we spent the afternoon watching movies. It wasn't what we had planned, but it seems like anytime we make plans recently they always get waylaid.

It always works out for the best though. I had a great day, and days like this are always what remind me that this is what I got married for.

I feel tall.

I went to the doctor's office today (again) to see if they could do something about this miserable Black Plague I've been toting around for nearly a week now, and when I stepped into the back of the office (you know, that place where they ask you to step on the scales and you close your eyes), the nurse kindly asked me (after laughing at me a little because I have an inner ear infection and my normal clumsiness + tilted equilibrium + moving scale = almost falling on my face) if they had ever measured my height.


I had to stop and think for a second (when was the last time I was measured?)... No... the last time was when I was fifteen and getting my learner's license (you know... when they make you stand up next to that roll of tape they've got on the wall... the one that makes you feel like you've just robbed a jiffy store).


So, I stepped over to this funky looking doo-dad, and she stretched (she was tiny) to move the bar down. Imagine my surprise when I stepped away, and she said "5'8'' ". All matter-of-fact-like.


I was in shock.


For years, I have believed that I was barely scraping 5'6''. I was so much in shock by her statement that I took off my shoes and made her measure me again.


Still 5'8''.


I don't even know what to say about this. I feel like a giant! When did this happen, and why didn't anyone tell me?


So now, my husband is gloating because he's always told me that he is 5'7'', and I never believed him (because he's always been a little bit shorter than me).


I can't believe he was right.


Now, I must decide what to do as an important member of society. Is there some kind of club I should join?