Change whooshing by

9 12 2011

I like change – love it.  So much so, that I don’t spend time worrying about it, therefore often missing when it even happens.  Confused?  How is this possible?  My friends, just go with the flow.

The past two and a half weeks were busy.  I couldn’t even find time to pause and blog. Change was whirling around me constantly, and I, choosing to be blissfully unaware, just clinked its glass as it went by and carried on.  First of all, we were preparing to once again make the trek to Bend, this time for Thanksgiving.  A group of our friends were getting together for a misfit meal, with everyone bringing food and a couple of the boys making a turkey.  Perfect!  J and I made cold salads the night before, packed Spartacus the Traveling Beta in with the luggage, and left our snowy valley behind.

I did not spend Turkey Day with my sisters this year.  My blood sister already had plans with her boyfriend.  Oh hey change!  Her first legit boyfriend since…ever?  (I think I just teared up a little.)  One non-related sister was off in Eugene this year with her fiance’s family – hey change! There you are again.  She’s getting married in July!!  Our little family is going in so many directions!  But my non-related brother-in-law-to-be is already pretty much considered family, so that’s not that big of a deal.  He’ll just be legally non-related.  And we left poor N’s family alone to eat without the sad Texas sisters who crashed their family-time last year.

Also, I spent that Thursday stuffing my face (as one rightly should) with J sitting next to me, shoveling it in like it might be his last.  (Makes me so proud!)  There’s a great big change, plopped in the middle of everything like a pile of cheesy mashed ‘tators – Justin.  And the best one, in my non-biased opinion…where did he come from again?

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, I met the girls at my baby sister’s house, bright and early in the morning.  We loaded N’s jeep with hooker heels, eyeball-popping outfits and hang-over cures and pointed north.  Portland here we come!  Why would we venture all the way to Portland for one wacky night of booze-drinking, booty-dancing, bar-hopping goodness?  Celebration of course.  November is the month of birthdays, and we decided to celebrate four of them together, and all at once.  Ok, that’s a big fat lie.  I mean, all four of us really did have a birthday within a week or two of that fateful Saturday, but the real reason was just one birthday: my sister’s.

The day before Thanksgiving, my kid sister celebrated another successful journey around the sun.  But this one was different.  Our trip to Portland was to pay homage to the booze gods, and her legal ability to drink.  Well, in public.

Party Time Downtown Portland

Aren't we having fun?!

This change was the most significant – how the hell can she be twenty-one years of age?!  She’s six years younger than I am, and last time I checked, I was barely twenty-one years of age!!  I have nothing against aging, I’m not dreading my thirtieth birthday, I’m actually looking forward to being the eccentric old lady in glittery shoes and humungous hats.  But I still think of her as a little kid!  I remember changing her diapers, and holding her hand in the grocery store with mom, and teaching her to tie her shoes.  She stole my barbies, my crayons, my cassettes, my make-up, my jewelry.  I thought her an irritating nuisance as my mother tried to explain that her copying me was the biggest form of flattery.  Yeah, right.  Tell that to my destroyed eyeshadow.

We were close as little squirts, sharing a room, even a bed, for years (she kicks).  Then high school distracted me and boys became more important than dress-up.  Soon I left for college.  In my eyes, she was still the little kid sneaking into my room to try on my shoes and crawling under my covers when the coyotes howled too close at night.  So by the time I was in the market for a roommate two years ago, and my mom suggested kid sister move in with me, we weren’t exactly besties.  But move in she did, from half-way across the country.  We shared a shoebox apartment for 3 months of central Oregon winter.  Needless to say, “close” was now an understatement.  But damn it!  She’s still a baby!

Sisters in Texas

Back before she was taller than me!

Ok, so maybe I should calm down.  Maybe I’m over-reacting.  But I’m sad.  Huge change, and smack in the face, too.  When people know you have a baby sister who is a full-fledged adult, they expect you to be one, too!  I just don’t know if that’s a change I’m prepared to face!

But Portland was a blast, Thanksgiving was a blast, my birthday and hers was a blast, seeing all our friends and family was a blast.  I even enjoyed going into the office for a week, even if just to soak up a little bit of the drama caused by  120+ people trying to all work together.  We stayed with several different people all over Bend, and participated in as many social gatherings as we could squeeze in, and even managed to jump on the SantaCon bandwagon to ensure we had nice painful hangovers for the drive home. Boxing Santa, Ms. Rodeo Santa and Santa GaGa joined the shananagins wrecking havoc on downtown that night.

SantaCon Bend OR

I think we were the best dressed there!

In just the last few years, sooooo much has changed.  I entered my Late Twenties.  My sister entered “adulthood.”  My job title has changed around but I’ve managed to stay employed.  I’ve made wonderful friends with people who I now consider a new branch of family.  My residence has changed numerous times.  I can see it all now as I look back, of course.  But its all been good.  And I’ve loved every bit, even if I didn’t notice at the time.  That is the one thing that hasn’t changed.  😀




Give it to me straight -

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: