Friday, 30. January 2009
Well, my sister has returned to LA to run the half marathon with me this Sunday. I am not sure if you remember her last stay, but let’s just say that the bruises from a long night of drinking have just now healed. She is recently single, which means she is 43 going on 21. For as awesome as I always thought I was, I can not keep up with her in her current state.
I picked her up at LAX last night, and thankfully she did not smell of tequila. I knew we’d be off to a better start. We made a quick stop at Whole Foods and Pinkberry before heading home.
She came in like a hurricane, leaving The Sanch speechless and scared. For starters, she plopped all of her belongings in the middle of the floor, made a quick assessment of the house, broke a glass, let the cat get out (twice) and took over the lone computer in the house. All while making me watch Private Practice.
Once The Sanch realized that my sister was no maverick, and that she would certainly make many more mistakes that would lead to his escape, he decided to follow her all over. Well, it was part her inability to not close doors fast enough, and part the shredded beef she gave him from her Whole Foods spread. So, he cuddled with her all night and slept in the bed with her.
Prior to falling asleep, she went ballistic on her blackberry, texting and talking on the phone like a little school girl. I was simply in awe of her ability to maintain such a high level of energy at 10 p.m.
It seems she wakes up with the shakes from missing her blackberry all night because I was awoken at 6:30 a.m. to the sound of her voice on the phone. She was laughing and giggling and carrying on a full conversation. 1. Who talks on the phone at 6:30 a.m.? 2. Who talks on the phone for a half hour at 6:30 a.m.? My brain cells don’t even know the meaning of life until I have a shower and coffee.
Anyway, I am now at work and have gotten the following texts from the Zoo that used to be my sister.
8:50 a.m.: Where’s your iron?
8:54 a.m.: Any hair product stuff? Forgot mine.
9:57 a.m.: Sanch is psychotic. He is under the sink and won’t come out. He is trying to escape out of the hole under there. OK. He is fine now.
10:08 a.m.: I just fell off the back step out to the back yard. There’s a weird dog out there. Sanch ran out.
10:12 a.m.: Is gorgeous out. Heading to coffee then the beach!
(BTW, I sure did love getting that one)
11:12 a.m.: Where is your sunscreen?
11:56 a.m.: My nice vaca buzz just burst by a $40 ticket for not curbing my wheels??!! WTF??
12:10 a.m.: Back at home with Sanch.
I am nervous about what the next few hours will bring. I hope she doesn’t fall, break a glass or kill my cat. Oh wait. She’s pretty much already done all that.
The record needs to show that I am no longer the biggest cluster to come out of my mother.