Ode to My Sister

Today, my baby sister turns 21. Does it make me feel old? Yes. But am I proud of the woman she's become. Absolutely. I can't wait to take her out tomorrow night and have a drink with her not in the privacy of a friend's basement or at a family dinner, but out in public, at a bar. It kind of blows my mind a little. I'm sure there will be many drunken "I remember the day you were born!" stories tomorrow night. And I do. It was the best day of my life. The day my little sister and best friend came into my life. I love that I was old enough to remember the day she was born. I had been praying for a baby sister for years. I don't know what my parents would have done if she's had been a boy. She was instantly mine. I helped change her diapers, even took her to my Kindergarten class for show and tell - "S" for sister.

Sure, there were days when I'd manipulate her, boss her around, fight with her, (and those days still exist) but they would eventually bring us closer and I hope, help to make her the strong woman she is today (or so I tell myself). I spent my life watching her grow up, trailing along behind me, wanting to be just like me. Now, she's grown into herself, a beautiful, smart, young woman, who ends up taking care of me just as much I take care of her. I am the proudest big sister anyone could ever be.

Ok, I think that's enough sappiness for one post. I'm sure there will be much more tomorrow after we shared our first few "public" drinks together. Cheers to Amanda!

Stage Whispers and Strawberries

I have a new job. The commute to the city was getting tougher and tougher, both physically and financially, and I found a position at a skin care company in Princeton called NeoStrata, so I applied. When I was offered the job, I was told I needed to have a physical and drug test. Now, I have never done a drug in my entire life, so I wasn’t nervous about passing. However, the morning of my test, I was nervous beyond belief that I wouldn’t be able to pee. I was told I needed to fast before the test, so I scheduled a morning exam and didn’t eat or drink anything. Of course, that morning, in my starved 6:00am stupor, I hadn't remembered not to pee at home. When the nurse showed me how much they needed, I panicked slightly inside. Add to it the fact that I felt like a criminal, (I had to leave my purse outside in the hall and they shut the water off in the bathroom so I wouldn't dilute anything), it was a pretty stressful morning. Luckily, my bladder came through and I didn't have to disappoint the nurse.

The best part of the exam was the hearing test. Never in my life have I had a test like this. It took all my strength not to laugh throughout the entire thing. The nurse told me to stand facing the wall while she stood behind me. “I’m going to whisper a word to you and I want you to repeat it back to me.” My boss had forewarned me about this test so I thought I was prepared. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so funny. “Strawberries” the nurse said in a stage whisper. I repeated it, stifling giggles. This went on for 4 more words (“peaches”, “watermelon”, and so on) and then she told me cover one ear. Now, before covering my ear, I hadn’t really noticed the low humming noise coming from the various medical machines in the room. With one ear covered, the other was aimed directly at one of these machines, so the humming was amplified. Oh God. Would I be able to hear her over the humming? Would she think I was hard of hearing? I was getting myself all worked up and ready to fight this completely unscientific exam full force. Then I heard “Pumpkin” in her stage whisper, let out a breath, and gleefully repeated it back to her. Needless to say, I left the building feeling more than a little exhausted. I had catapulted through emotion after emotion in the span of about 30 minutes. Of course, I will always look back on my hearing test whenever I need a good laugh.

On my nightstand:

I just finished The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson. It's the third and final book in the Millennium Series. It was incredible, just like the prior two (The Girls With the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played With Fire). If you haven't read these books, you need to. They're well written, suspenseful, intense and Larsson keeps you guessing until the final page. The chapters are short and flip flop between a multitude of storylines, intricately weaving arguably the most complete and complex stories I have ever read. I can't help but wonder how Larsson was able to keep track of it all. I read through each book quickly for two reasons. One: the chapters are short and swift and Two: I simply couldn't put them down. Usually, after reading them on the train, I'd look up for the first time since opening the book, and realize I was at Penn Station, and that my neck ached. Please, please read these. I cannot recommend them enough.

Now to finish our Book Club selection: The Kite Runner. For the first time in two and a half years, I actually have to make time to read! I'm kinda missing the commute now. Ok, not really.

An introduction

If you've ever met me, chances are you've heard a story or two about Nonni. Nonni is my grandmother. Nonni was born and raised in a tiny mountain village in Italy, and although she has lived in America for over 50 years, she has not adapted in any way, shape, or form to American life.

We have dinner at Nonni's house every Sunday. This Sunday, before lunch, my sister called to tell me she was bringing her friend to lunch. It's always fun when someone new meets the infamous Nonni. But this was something else altogether. My sister informed me that her friend is allergic to gluten and she would be bringing a salad to lunch so she would have something to eat. I couldn't believe my sister was subjecting her poor, innocent friend to this. This could not possibly go well. I got there early and set the table. I chose not to forewarn my grandmother about our guest, choosing instead to watch from the sidelines. It went something like this...

(just imagine Nonni with a thick Italian accent)

Amanda: Nonni, Lauren is allergic to gluten, so she brought a salad to eat.

Nonni: She's what?

Amanda: Allergic to gluten.

Amy: Allergic to flour. So she can't eat pasta.

Nonni: She doesn't like pasta? (to Lauren) You don't like pasta?

Amanda: No, Nonni, she's allergic. It makes her sick.

Nonni: I don't know about this.

Amy: She's fine Nonni. She has a salad.

Nonni: Well, she can eat meatballs.

Amanda: Yes. she can eat meatballs.

Amy: No, she can't eat meatballs. Your meatballs have bread crumbs which have flour. And she's allergic.

Nonni: So what is she going to eat?

Amanda: Her salad. Really Nonni, it's fine.

10 minutes later

Nonni to Lauren: Here, have some meatballs.

Amanda: Nonni, she CANNOT eat meatballs.

Nonni to Lauren: You don't like meatballs?

Dad: It's not that she doesn't like meatballs. She's allergic to the bread crumbs in them. They make her sick. She's fine Mom.

Nonni: Well, I'm sorry you can't eat anything. (I had wondered when the guilt was coming)

Meanwhile, Kurt sat back, clearly enjoying the ridiculous interaction. As we were leaving, I scolded my sister for subjecting her friend to Nonni. Her friend interjected: "Oh, I wanted to meet Nonni. I hear Amanda on the phone with her all the time and I just had to meet her."