Tag Archives: sisters

Braggin on My Sis

Hey all,

This is one of those days that it feels good to talk about someone besides “you know who.” (me)

So today is a brag about a sister day. She was part of a dance performance last night in New Orleans. She is the fine young lady standing to the right of the column at the top of the stairs.

Sister's Dance Performance

Sister’s Dance Performance


Weight Loss the Fun Way

Mom and Sis

Mom and Sis on the Magic Train

Ladies, I am proud to announce that I have discovered a secret of the ages, weight loss the fun way. Quite by accident. I just love accidental wonderfulness. No, it’s not sex or more sex.

The Secret? Travel with a woman, preferable your sister, if you are blessed with one, who looks like she just stepped out of Vogue magazine when she wakes up in the morning. It was difficult to accept at first. A little jealousy did creep into the equation at first.

How can this be? Until the trip, I was the queen of all I surveyed, in my own my mind. Had to demote my ego to lady in waiting for a while. Fortunately, I realized that there can be more that one queen at any given time.

Sister walks around tall and slim, head high, like she was walking down a runway in a Paris fashion show. It just comes natural. I’ve known her since she was born, so I can attest to that.

What really shook me was the morning they booted us off the train early. The train had been running late, and then suddenly, at 5:00 am in be bloody morning, they arrived 20 minutes ahead of schedule.

Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty- How does she do this?

My sister woke up out of a sound sleep and had to explain to the attendant that her luggage was under her berth and she could not get to it with the bed down.

Instead of being concerned about her luggage, I stood there staring. She looked great. How does she do it? I look like I’ve been smacked around and electrocuted in the morning. Did she make a deal with the devil or what?

This picture is proof. How can a woman look this svelte asleep on a bench in a train station? It defies logic. But maybe that’s one of the reasons men love us so much. Come to think of it, there is a lot of artwork depicting of women lying asleep. Hmmm.

So back to the secret. I did slim down on my train journey. What did I do? Stand up straight, chest out tummy in, carry my own luggage, and eat lots of protein and vegies. No snacking on junk stuff, all too easy to do at home and difficult to do on the train. First, you first have to find the snack car, and be lucky enough to get there when the attendant is on duty.

Walk a lot, using all your muscles. Pay attention, no slogging around. Very necessary on the train. Every second you are fighting to keep a graceful balance so you don’t go pin wheeling out of control and land with your face in someone’s plate of food, or fall into their compartment unannounced.

That’s is. That’s all there is to it. You can do this at home.

The Chance of Joy

The 3 Vs

The 3 Vs - at the Hostel in Seatlle

For after all he thought … it was joy they were both after – the completeness of being. If you evade suffering you also evade the chance of joy. Pleasure you get, or pleasures, but you will not be fulfilled. You will not know what it is to come home. The Dispossessed, Ursula K. Le Guin

I miss my mom and my sister! The adventures we had on our trip will be with me for life. On the train the staff started calling us the 3 V’s. It hadn’t occurred to us until then that our first names all start with V. We got a huge kick out of it and the time we spent together.

From Mom’s point of view she was traveling with her oldest and youngest daughter. From mine, I was traveling with the first person I ever laid eyes on and my sister who I’ve known since before she was born. For Sis, she was traveling with her mom and the oldest of 6 kids in the family. It was…comfortable. A weird adjective for a trip, but it fits.

We carried around our own microcosm of home and family where ever we went. Occasionally it was not a good thing, but most of the time it was our own private giggle factory. We talked our heads off or stared out the window, whatever suited our mood. Didn’t need to discuss that much. We did talk about bringing the men folk and kids on future trips, but it’s not the same kind of adventure.

Now I’m home and glad to be here. After my pity pot festival, where I did not receive the wounded road warrior welcome that I thought was the order of the day, I had to laugh at myself. Asked Mr. Husband “aren’t you glad I’m home?” He said something like “well yes, of course I’m glad you’re home. I missed you.”

To be loved and missed are great blessings. I have chanced upon joy…again. Lucky me!

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