If you pee on my bed right before a party - on fresh sheets no less! - you will FEEL MY WRATH. I'M TALKING TO YOU YOU STUPID CAT!!!!!!
AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Dallas Morning News
This is the first thing I hear every time I come home. For years it seems, the first hellos upon entering the house were always bypassed by my brother in his urgency, looking me in the eyes in what could be the only time he ever does so, saying,
"Summer, I want Dallas Morning News 1983, 84, 85 and 1988"
And for years I would always float past him, my mind on other things, programmed to react with precise oblivion (and a hint of annoyance), "Yes, Ryan."
Not anymore. Maybe it's because I'm older? I don't know. But for some reason now I strain to hear what he says, to write them down in my head so I can repeat the action on paper later. Then maybe we can find them - those lost editions - and maybe he will be content.
I know we've looked for them before. My brother has been taken to Half Priced Books endless times in search of such tomes. My mother recalled a time she spent hours at the local library while he scrambled through dusty shelves of Dallas Morning News archives, looking for whatever month or year could unlock the prize. Whenever she came close he would shut the book in his possession, peering over his shoulder to note the disturbance, and start afresh with another book. Mommy says she thinks he's looking for old cigarette ads.
I hope we find them one day. I also hope that when we do he will be satisfied. I have a distinct fear, though, that he will just ask for Dallas Morning News 1989.
"Summer, I want Dallas Morning News 1983, 84, 85 and 1988"
And for years I would always float past him, my mind on other things, programmed to react with precise oblivion (and a hint of annoyance), "Yes, Ryan."
Not anymore. Maybe it's because I'm older? I don't know. But for some reason now I strain to hear what he says, to write them down in my head so I can repeat the action on paper later. Then maybe we can find them - those lost editions - and maybe he will be content.
I know we've looked for them before. My brother has been taken to Half Priced Books endless times in search of such tomes. My mother recalled a time she spent hours at the local library while he scrambled through dusty shelves of Dallas Morning News archives, looking for whatever month or year could unlock the prize. Whenever she came close he would shut the book in his possession, peering over his shoulder to note the disturbance, and start afresh with another book. Mommy says she thinks he's looking for old cigarette ads.
I hope we find them one day. I also hope that when we do he will be satisfied. I have a distinct fear, though, that he will just ask for Dallas Morning News 1989.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Daniel
He is my brother's piano teacher. My parents found him through some organization that specializes in musical therapy for the mentally retarded. Ryan was his first ever piano student.
I came home for my birthday this year and - low and behold - his birthday is the same as mine. Ryan had a lesson that day. Mommy was in charge of getting the birthday cake. When I got there Daniel and Ryan were finishing up the lesson and Daddy was finishing up the lumpia. The cake was displayed proudly on the kitchen table. It said:
Happy Birthday Daniel and Summer!
We celebrated together. He was polite enough to stay for dinner and blow candles out with me but had to rush off for what I imagine were his real birthday plans. Mommy says out of all of the piano teachers we have had (and in 20 odd years we have had many) he is the best for Ryan. He noticed Ryan enjoyed rhythm so he suggested they sing together. Now they sing during their lesson every week, Beatles and show tunes and pop hits. Ryan's playing has progressed and he is better than he has ever been.
The world needs more Daniels.
I came home for my birthday this year and - low and behold - his birthday is the same as mine. Ryan had a lesson that day. Mommy was in charge of getting the birthday cake. When I got there Daniel and Ryan were finishing up the lesson and Daddy was finishing up the lumpia. The cake was displayed proudly on the kitchen table. It said:
Happy Birthday Daniel and Summer!
We celebrated together. He was polite enough to stay for dinner and blow candles out with me but had to rush off for what I imagine were his real birthday plans. Mommy says out of all of the piano teachers we have had (and in 20 odd years we have had many) he is the best for Ryan. He noticed Ryan enjoyed rhythm so he suggested they sing together. Now they sing during their lesson every week, Beatles and show tunes and pop hits. Ryan's playing has progressed and he is better than he has ever been.
The world needs more Daniels.
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