Lord help the mister

I love being the big sister. Being the oldest child, it was new to my family for someone to bring a date home, and I remember being petrified of the seemingly inevitable teasing. (Well, private teasing is fine, but I was horrified that someone would start telling diaper stories to my date thinking it was cute). Anyway, being married I am now immune to the fire, but my youngest sibling, who just turned 16 and had three different dates this week, is just beginning.

This evening I came to mom & dad's for a pants-un-hemming party of one. Okay two. (Mom is the one un-hemming my pants). Remember I said tall and fat? My pants are too short. Anyway, we were sitting at the kitchen counter when the doorbell rang. Danielle's date. The door opened and there was mom, dad, and me, grinning and staring at the poor guy, who was major cute. Danielle introduced us and quickly made an exit. Which was good because my resistance to saying, "hey, look what I can do," was about to break down. I'm sure they could see dad's face in the window as they drove away.

I'm pretty sure one of my sisters is going to get married and beat me to having children. Which is fine with me cuz we're going to corrupt whatever children we have anyway... then what good will they be... all of the mafia movies and family guy episodes... and the pizza and ice-cream... the dominatrix equipment... not exactly a kid-friendly environment.

On another train of thought, we got off work early for Pioneer Day, which is as good as a federal holiday if you ask some locals. Every day at 11 I do a walk through payroll and call for banking. (The explanation of which would probably cause death by boredom so we'll skip it). Thanks to the ladies, it has evolved from "banking" to "keno," "cocktails," and the WAVE... in other words a party. I should get out my disco-ball mouse.