My little sister is a lawyer. She works for the state in Olympia, driving there from Tacoma. One would think this would keep her busy. But, somehow she finds time to take care of two poodles, named Blue and Max. Well, actually Max is part poodle and part who knows what. Blue is a purebred pedigree with a very condescending, dominating attitude towards Max, even though Max is about twice as big as Blue.Blue and Max have been going through a period of medical problems requiring multiple surgeries. Both are recovering well. But they are still being restricted in their movements.
Prior to my visit (for a month) last summer, my sister had taken in a couple of foster kids, Emilie and Abby. Emilie and Abby had gone to live with their grandparents by the time I arrived. That month last summer was the longest I've spent with my little sister since she was a little baby. I had no idea she was so tightly wound. I always thought she was like me. Easy going, with a highly evolved sense of humor and a tolerance for differences.
Instead, things like repetitive noises, or even the soothing sounds of a waterfall, could set my sister's last nerve on edge. And she's very particular. She has some sort of watering fetish. Even though she lives in the wet northwest, she pours absurd amounts of water on plants that don't need so much. I pretty much grieved for the poor drowning tomatoes I watched struggling so hard to stay alive under the daily flood of too much water.
I used to grow huge tomato plants that produced huge red tomatoes, when I lived in Washington.
I also used to BBQ a lot. I have all sorts of BBQ techniques to get chicken nice and brown and BBQed. Or pork chops totally smoky and well done. Or steak flipped over and over again til it's perfectly BBQed. When I was at my sister's I was forced, against my better techniques, to grill steak at an extremely high temperature and forbidden to flip the meat. The predictable result. Burnt steak. After the burnt steak incident I refused to BBQ chicken unless I was allowed to BBQ it my way. I did so, and when it turned out tasty I was asked to BBQ chicken again, using my perfected technique.
If only I'd been able to save the tomatoes.
So, after seeing what a tightly wound operation my sister's house is, I could not fathom how kids were added to that mix.
And then she got Evie. Everyone loves Evie. Evie does look like a fun kid. She's about 2 years old and reads at an 8th grade level and regularly wins legal debates with my sister.Then a couple weeks ago a little boy, Marley, was added to the mix. Marley looks to be about 1 or so. Marley arrived right when Blue and Max were having really bad woes.
And then last week Trey was added. Another little boy, the same size as Marley. So, now the boys outnumber the girls for the first time in that house. I think this is a good thing. There was a distinct need for more testosterone in that abode.
You should have seen my little sister trying to use power tools to do something simple like remove a screw. She suffered the humiliation of me doing it for her.
Humiliation? Yes. The basic Zeitgeist whilst I was in that house was that I was inept at all things, constantly having shortcomings pointed out to me. It was exhausting. I regularly have nightmares about those drowning tomatoes.
