Twins

Twins run strongly in my family. Not so strongly that there’s a set in every house, but strong enough to be note worthy. My dad’s a twin. I have twin cousins. My brother has two sets of twins. So there you have it. I, on the other hand, do not have twins. I also am not a twin to another human. So you might find it interesting to know that for what it’s worth, I can’t stop being accused of having one. Growing up, me and one of my brothers were mistaken for twins quite frequently. He is less than two years younger than me so it can be understood. Of course, I’m not around him enough to be compared anymore. With two brothers on opposite ends of the country and one who doesn’t even have the same hair color as me, why oh why would I be called a twin? One word. Mandy. For some reason, people keep mistaking us as twins. And what’s funny is that the accusations have become ever increasing as the years go by. They say that married couples live together for so long that they eventually begin to look alike. Mandy and I have been friends since the 5th grade and consistently hang around one another so perhaps this is becoming true of us. There are similarities for which you would have to be blind to miss. Both of us have the same red hair…same length as well these days. We consistently seem to wear the same color combo of clothes…purely unintentionally of course. And we have an uncanny ability to finish each others sentences when talking to other people. And heck...our kids refer to us as Aunts. Come to think of it…it is a bit odd, isn’t it? We’re not related. Seriously…our gene pools could not be more different…on several levels. But as you can easily see the similarities are uncanny.

Same hair color (I'm older-obvious by my white streaks) and same sense of style. Very fashionable. And may I just add, the same genuinely beautiful skin tone and overall beauty.

Same body type. Though you can probably tell that Mandy works out more. (Looser loin cloth.)

Ah, heck. we even have the same pathetically corny and slightly immature sense of humor.

So as you can so obviously see...people can't help but to compare us. What made me make note of such an obscure point? I found it strange that in the span of three hours two weekends back, three total strangers asked us if we were twins. Not just sisters. Twins. It makes me laugh. They are always so amazed to find out that we aren’t even related. Seriously though, we don’t see it. I think from now on we should just go with it and make a game out of it. I’ve always been a fan of witty comebacks. Next time someone asks, I’ll nod and say, “Yup. She got all the looks and I got all the brains.” (Just kidding Mandy...you got the brains too.)

Now you must understand that the hilarity of this situation goes further. One night Mandy said, "That's it! I'm chopping off all of my hair! Then no one can call us twins!" Sooo...fast forward to the Great Sleep over with her kids. She comes waltzing up to my door to pick up the kids with a full-on make over. Ten inches of her hair...gone! Mighty fine hair cut, if I do say so myself. Pierced ears and lookin' pretty doggone snazzy! I, in my run down jeans and holey shirt with hair slopped back in a rough pony-tail and bags under my eyes from watching four little tornadoes for 32 hours, stared back and said, "Twins, no more!" We went out for the first time together not three days later to Wal-Mart to do our shopping. One of the workers looked at us and said, "Are you two sisters?"

Priceless. Guess next time one of us need to just shave our heads. "Not it!"

The First Great Sleepover

I remember my first sleepover. It was a terrifying experience for me and I remember not sleeping a wink in fear that someone might dip my hand in warm water or put shaving cream in my sleeping bag. Granted this sleepover was a slumber party and I barely knew the girls. As I was quite possibly the single most unpopular person in my grade, you can understand how it might be a bit intimidating to subject myself to the mercy of a group of female peers. Scary. Of course, perhaps my first sleepover wasn’t the one I’m thinking. Forgive me if my mind is a little rusty in the youth memory department. In the event I’m wrong, my mom will surely call me promptly with a corrected version of the story. So, here I am, several years older with wee children of my own. A three and almost five year old and I’m already having a sleepover. Of course, they are my niece and nephew via Mandy so perhaps sleepover is the wrong term. Nevertheless, there are children that are not my own hunkering down in my house without their parents. Mandy and her hubby escaped for a 30-hour trip all to themselves. They get to experience the joys of silence, adult themed music and conversation, and eating without food being thrown across the room. I’m beyond thrilled that I can give them that experience. I’m sure they will enjoy their time off for good behavior. So far, the night has been fairly good. Granted, no one went to sleep easily and poor miss Greta went to sleep begging nonstop for juice. (Don’t ask.) Wesley kept referring to me as ‘Aunt Mandy’. I’m fairly certain he was delirious from exhaustion, as he didn’t go to sleep until 9:30. Tomorrow it’s a bright and early morning of chocolate chip pancakes and preschool. So here’s hoping the rest of the night goes smoothly. I can only hope that Wesley and Greta don’t go home permanently scarred from their four-kids-in-one-room-at-night experience. All in all…it’s been fun. On to the morning.

*Ugh...on an updated side note...It is 6:04 in the morning and I'm awake with two of the kids. The ladies decided to early rise. I'm not built for pre-sunrise...

A Moment of Silence

Please take a moment to pray for those who lost their lives ten years ago on that horrible day that changed the world. I know I'll never forget where I was, what I was doing, and how I heard about the World Trade Center attack. I was in my art class and my teacher said to us, "Well...it's a terrible thing that's happened. *silence* The world will never be the same. But life has to go on." And so it did. But we will never forget. God Bless all those that lost their lives and those that must live every day with the loss and memory of it all. God bless our troops that fight to prevent this from happening again and God bless America. Amen.

Sooo....yeah

So I was googling images tonight for a t-shirt I'm looking for. (Don't ask...it's a geek thing.) I didn't think much about it until... *POP!* Right there, smack dab in the middle of all those images, I saw a familiar face smiling back at me. It was a picture of Abby. Huh. I gotta be honest with myself now. It made me feel a little...well...weird. It's not like I was googling images of "Abby" so how did it get mixed in with all those pictures? What process does google use to match images to searches? I suddenly had mixed feelings about my blogging days. Now, I'm well aware of what a 'public' blog means. The thing is: I don't have many readers. As far as I know, it's just the few bits of family out there that may or may not check up on it once in a blue moon. So I kind of brushed it off until I showed Josh. He was less than thrilled about seeing her image on a google image search. Has my comfort zone suddenly become less when it regards the world wide web? Perhaps my paranoia just hit me a little harder than normal. I could be tapping into my inner agitated mama bear who's simply trying to protect her cubs from the dangers of google-searchers. Or maybe the caramel sauce I added to my hot cocoa just now has added just a tad too much sugar to my diet and disrupted the fine balance of reason in my brain creating strange, paranoid delusions. (Caramel has been known to do that you know.) It's hard to say. The cure for my sudden concern is simple. Go private. Do I? Don't I? I'm just not sure. Me? A private blogger? I'd be one of those bloggers. *shudder* (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) Perhaps it's in my future. I don't blog as often as I used to anyways. Maybe tomorrow morning the rantings and concerns of a slightly odd mama will have dulled significantly. The effects of the caramel sauce will have worn off and I'll be able to think clearly again. Until then: To go or not to go private? That is the question.