SIBLING RIVALRY

I've never experienced it, I suppose because of the significant difference in age between myself and my older sisters, and the even more significant difference in gender.

I have, however, witnessed such rivlary. Close up. And personal. The latest manifestation is in process.

Julie's road towards marital bliss is well documented. I am not revealing any secrets when I remind you that she and Kirk lived together, then got engaged, then bought a house, then got married. Slightly unorthodoxed, but all's fair in love and finance.

Apparently, Sara was paying close attention to that series of events. Her recent engagement was preceded by the purchase of a house with her boyfriend AND her boyfriend's brother. Not satisfied with this simple act of "one upmanship," Sara has elected to immediately follow her engagement with a trial separation, as she and Amy jet off to Paris.

Is this some sort of perverse reverse Benjamin Button timeline/time warp, or just a long lost Quaker tradition?

Oh well, lots of luck to the happy couple, and the future brother-in-law.

(I wonder what Amy's engagement will be like............)

Bon voyage, Amy & Sara.

Vive la France!

HOME AGAIN

Last week I was relaxing on the beach, enjoying the gentle surf, and a cool ocean breeze. So, it is ironic that I had to travel 1300 miles north for a breath of fresh air - Miles and Landon.

Though just a little shy at first, they have been pure delight, sheer joy, totally entertaining. And so well behaved! (Except for a mild meltdown related to an unforgivably washed apple.) A definite ego booster; they like me, they really like me! (I like them too.)

And how they've grown; bigger and better versions of the little boys I knew 4 months ago. Their athletic prowess is amazing! Miles is still a running blur; Landon is the fastest penguin I know. But it's their baseball skills that most impress. Hitting, throwing, catching; they do it all! When did they learn all of this, and who taught them?

I suppose there are many definitions of home; where you own property, where you pay taxes. I recognize that home is where your family is. (Still, Florida will always be a significant home away from home, especially when Marion and Jude are wintering there.)

It's good to be home; good to see Miles and Landon, Julie and Kirk, Sara and John.

I look forward to seeing Amy next week.

I look forward to seeing my extended family in the coming weeks.

We have a sign in Florida that says "Life is Good at the Beach."

I need another sign that simply says "Life is Good."

One of My Favorite Things

When a woman embarrassingly trips, burps, or farts, I like to sing "She's a Lady," the Tom Jones hit.

It's my signature move.









Happy Mother's Day, ladies.

All by Myself

Day 1. Celebrated new found freedom with 2 beers and a cigar on the beach. Went home to use the bathroom. Didn't bother to close the door or flush the toilet.


Day 2. Without the ol' ball and chain, walked and ran early in the morning, at my own pace. Felt kind of lame collecting shells solo. Returned to the beach for sunset; also lame as a solo activity.


Day 3. Went to church. I delayed the mass by offering peace to an inordinate amount of people. I enjoyed the interaction.




Day 4. Spent the day at a car dealership. They will talk to anybody for a long, long time, until they determine you are a lonely loser.


Day 5. Considered spending the day with a Real Estate Agent, but I couldn't trust my abilities to fend off sales pitch. I'm weak and lonely. (My wife, my wife, why have you forsaken me?)


Day 6. Well since my baby left me I found a new place to dwell. It's down at the end of Lonely Street, Heartbreak Hotel. You make me so lonely baby, I feel so lonely. I feel so lonely, I could die.

So if your baby leaves you, you've got a place to dwell. Just take a walk down Lonely Street, to Heart break Hotel.






Very obviously, it's time to go home.

Beach Party!

Late afternoon, I am once again performing my lonely beach monitor duties.

Some young people are playing volleyball; 5 guys and a couple of girls. They're not very good, and several times the ball lands near my beach property. Each time I cheerfully return the ball; all part of the service.

Eventually, they actually asked me to join their game, to even up the sides. I informed them that I wasn't nearly as young as I looked, but they persisted, so I played.

Three games; my team won two of them. Truth be told, I was awesome! Still, the kids were great in their own way; amazing how they can navigate the beach with their crutches and wheel chairs. Especially Blind Billy!

After the games, I entertained them with some card tricks and juggling. (They weren't inclined to frolic in the water.)

Unfortunately, this is when the truth came out. They befriended me because they wanted me to buy them beer.
This is not part of the service. I refused and left in a huff, as any self respecting, self appointed, Temporary Beach Patrol Monitor would.


Unfortunately also, I left some of my dignity at the beach that day, shouting that my "friends" had cooties. I'm not proud of this episode, but I persevere. TBPM; my beat is 16th avenue.





(Dark enough for you, Big Sister?)