Tales of Wit and Charm…

Today my little brother Jeff turns 28.  Or was it 27.  I forget.  I won’t see him on his birthday.  I didn’t last year, or the year before that.  We used to be as close as siblings could be, but things changed.  Jeff changed.  And I am not good with change.

He’s still a good person. He calls our mother more often than I do.  He buys my grandparents extravagant gifts that I can’t afford.  He makes an effort, but it’s not the same as it once was.  Things happened.  Life happened.

I miss my baby brother, but realize our relationship won’t ever be what it once was.  And I’m finally at a place in my life where I’ve accepted that.

I hate the term ex-wife.  I always have.  When my favorite sister-in-law, Holli, and my brother recently divorced I wasn’t sure how to refer to her on this blog.  In the “character” section she’s referred as the mother of my niece and nephew.  As the only girl in my family, Holli has been the only sister I have ever known, and I’m not quite ready to give that up.

The divorce has been an adjustment not just for my brother, but also for the entire family.

We don’t email or text one another as much as we used to, so last night when I got a text message asking if I wanted to meet her and the kids at Starbucks I jumped at the chance.  I see the kids as much as I always have, but not her.  I miss our girl time.

When I arrived I noticed Holli was wearing a pair of shoes I had given her.  At that moment everything that has transpired between she and my brother was instantly gone.  They can deal with their shit, and leave Holli and I to discuss more important things like shoes and how damn cute the kids are.

And they so, so are.  Last night, my darling niece, Hannah, confessed she only ordered the strawberry frappuccino because it’s pink. I smiled and realized that even though Holli and I won’t be sharing the same last name forever, we will always have Hannah and Carter in common.

Let me preface this by saying I absolutely love my mother.  She’s the single most amazing person I know.  She’s kind to strangers.  STRANGERS!  I’m rarely kind to people I know, let alone someone I’ve never met.  As much as I love her, sometimes when I go home to visit I feel like a teenager again.  Which would be fine if I had the ass and thighs to go along with teenage-Sarah.  Currently I don’t, hence the problem.  Here are just a few things she said over the weekend to prove my point:

“Why don’t you clean your room while you’re here.”

“What time will you be home?”

“Here’s money to pay for your dinner and the demolition derby.”

“Put your seat belt on.”

“Are you wearing a helmet when you’re on Carl’s bike?”

“Do you want me to french braid your hair?”

“Do you want money for gas?”

“The dress is short, just wear jeans under it.”

Daisy is very busy in the country reminding my mother that while the twins are very cute, she is the first grandchild. Pugs are never to be forgotten. They remind you they exist by emitting toxic gases from their asses.

A repeat from last year.  Not good enough for you?  TOO BAD!  My silly tattoo only comes in handy once a year.

I’m headed to the country to celebrate my country’s independence by watching cars wreck into one another. While I’m gone please don’t blow yourself up with fireworks! Unless I’m in the will, then by all means. I kid, I kid… Happy 4th!!

To read this week’s column for In Utah This Week click here. This week I skip local entertainment and write about my dating life. I know, I know… zip it.

But really, how could I not talk publicly about a guy who didn’t mind when I rented this movie on his Blockbuster account:

OK, he did complain for a brief second, but I was able to talk him into it by batting my lovely long eyelashes. SUCKER!