I Love My Sister

It's true, my sister Angie, two years and three months, my senior, has been the cause of most of my troubles since as far back as I can remember. Today, however, I can't be mean. Today is her birthday.

For those of you who are new to Home Fires, welcome. In honor of my sister's special day, I offer to you a little photo essay to help you get to know her a little better. Those of you who have read the stories of her torture and torment will notice the evil little look in her eyes. For the rest of you, she will merely look like a sweet kid. Remember folks, looks can be deceiving.



Just like a little cupie doll, making the "all gone" pose, Angie was practicing to make Lois all gone.




Even before I came into the picture, Angie was tearing shit up. Here she is in the classic, "uh-oh" pose after knocking over a stepstool. One day the kid is knocking over a stepstool, the next day, a liquor store.




You can't drink all day if you don't start bright and early. Here's Angie and our cousin Sarah. Notice the plastic covered green couch. Mom really had an eye for home decor. Our parents had a taste for the finest of beers as you can see here. Yeah, Old Style, which we later called Doggie Style, Frog Piss and Old Spice. Ang, later went into a 12-step program for recovering toddlers.

Fast forward to after little Lois made her grand entrance.




Look at that toothless smile. Look at our dad smiling back so sweetly. Happiness and excitement abound. It's a shame the camera didn't pan over to the right a little. There I was, standing all alone, pouting, crying silently, to myself, holding the stupid Slinky I didn't ask for. Santa was a real fuck up. I asked for that Raggedy Ann battery operated tooth brush and the toothless wonder ended up getting it instead. That was one of many times my Christmas wishes were destroyed by the evil one.




This was a really happy day for Angie. She was at our neighbor's house baking chocolate chip cookies. She came home, covered in flour, melted chocolate lined her lips, she smelled like a bakery. I skipped over to my favorite sister. I asked if she brought a cookie home for me. First she told me how much fun she had. Then, she told me how good she bakes. Next she said she did bring me a cookie. And then she remembered that she ate it on the way home.

Ang and I would fight to the death for anything and everything. She would pin me down a beat the snot out of me. She was always really sneaky too. Mom never caught her dangling a spit wad over me as I lay helpless on the shag carpeting. But you can bet your sweet ass, as soon as I gained the strength to get up and fight back, Mom was most attentive. "LOIS!" And Ang would giggle quietly, while pointing her stupid finger at me.

There were times we got along. I was the eyes and ears of the scary movies we watched when we were little. Of course we weren't supposed to be watching scary stuff, but Ang taught me early, if we sneak, we not only got to stay up late, we also were able to see all sorts of stuff our parents wouldn't let us see.

At the sound of the creepy music, she would cover her eyes. I would let her know when it was safe to look. It made me feel helpful because she always showed her appreciation. She never understood why I always had nightmares, however. She never really knew why I was sure there was a monster under my bed. And she didn't know why I would think her coat hanging on the top of the door looked like a vampire coming in to suck my blood. But she never minded when I snuggled up because I was scared.




(Lois on left, Angie on right) While I lay beneath her, elbows pinned to the floor, her fists landing on my face, I never imagined I would actually like or love her. Ever. From archenemy to present stealer, Angie somehow weaseled her way into my heart. And now that I'm big enough to kick her ass, I'm glad she did.

Happy birthday Sista!

(The name of this post reflects the Barney the Dinosaur song that I sang to Ang as a form of grownup torture. Imagine a grownup Lois, chasing after a grownup Angie, scream singing, "Sometimes we're real close friends. We stay up late and talk at night. Other times we don't get along. There are even times we fight. But I know she's always there. And I know she'll always care. She's my sister. I love my sister." Try getting that little ditty out of your head Sista. I love you!)