I am sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to write a blog.
It's kind of hard to do that, though, when one of my brothers and two of my sisters are hanging out in the living room with me.
Scratch that, because my brother just left the room.
One sister is yawning, and the other is making a bracelet.
They're commiserating over shared problems with jewelry making, and it is all. very. distracting.
So instead of writing a blog tonight with anything of substance, I'm writing about what is going on in real time.
Because the sister that is yawning is now shaking tubes of beads, and the other is commenting about how convenient the tubes of beads are.
They've both decided that the tubes are a good thing.
And just as I'm starting to get my writing groove on (aka finally catching up to the point in the conversation they're at), the sister that doesn't live here decides it is time for her to go home.
I protest, because her departure is interrupting my flow.
She kisses me on the forehead - because, yes, we have that level of affection in our sisterly relationship - tells me goodnight, and disappears.
She's left me with the bracelet making sister who is now asking me if she has permission to jump on me.
When I say that I won't grant that permission until after the laptop has left my lap, my necklace making sister tells me that that's the reason she doesn't like to write (lies - she's hated writing for longer than anyone in our family has owned a laptop computer).
And that I should be jumped on at least once a day.
Then she asks me what I'm writing about.
I tell her it's a real-time account of what's been happening this evening.
My sister tells me no.
I laugh at her.
She curses under her breath, and tells me that she hopes no one she knows reads my blog.
I laugh again, and tell her the name of at least one person we both know who does.
She laughs with me, reminds me that the person in question is, indeed, a nut, and goes back to her bead counting and bracelet making - talking to herself as she does.
I laugh to myself, and just keep on typing.
(Edited 6/13/14, on account of the "necklace" maker's reminder that she was actually making a bracelet.)
It's kind of hard to do that, though, when one of my brothers and two of my sisters are hanging out in the living room with me.
Scratch that, because my brother just left the room.
One sister is yawning, and the other is making a bracelet.
They're commiserating over shared problems with jewelry making, and it is all. very. distracting.
So instead of writing a blog tonight with anything of substance, I'm writing about what is going on in real time.
Because the sister that is yawning is now shaking tubes of beads, and the other is commenting about how convenient the tubes of beads are.
They've both decided that the tubes are a good thing.
And just as I'm starting to get my writing groove on (aka finally catching up to the point in the conversation they're at), the sister that doesn't live here decides it is time for her to go home.
I protest, because her departure is interrupting my flow.
She kisses me on the forehead - because, yes, we have that level of affection in our sisterly relationship - tells me goodnight, and disappears.
She's left me with the bracelet making sister who is now asking me if she has permission to jump on me.
When I say that I won't grant that permission until after the laptop has left my lap, my necklace making sister tells me that that's the reason she doesn't like to write (lies - she's hated writing for longer than anyone in our family has owned a laptop computer).
And that I should be jumped on at least once a day.
Then she asks me what I'm writing about.
I tell her it's a real-time account of what's been happening this evening.
My sister tells me no.
I laugh at her.
She curses under her breath, and tells me that she hopes no one she knows reads my blog.
I laugh again, and tell her the name of at least one person we both know who does.
She laughs with me, reminds me that the person in question is, indeed, a nut, and goes back to her bead counting and bracelet making - talking to herself as she does.
I laugh to myself, and just keep on typing.
(Edited 6/13/14, on account of the "necklace" maker's reminder that she was actually making a bracelet.)
That wouldn't be Juanita would it? ; p
ReplyDeleteI plead the fifth.
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