For the most part, my family is pretty awesome. We have our arguments and our irritations and our spats, but I don’t see myself trading them in for anyone else’s family anytime, like, ever. Besides, I don’t know who would want them. Today, you get two good family stories.
My brother. He’s
17 24. Sorry, I forget he’s that old. I found out two days ago that he was planning a trip to Mississippi. To see the ocean for the first time. And he was taking a girl. A girl that he would share absolutely zero details about to me on the phone. This is not like my brother, and I still don’t believe the story he finally gave me of meeting her while playing pool in a suburb of Kansas City. Nevertheless, he left her place at 9pm last night, and arrived in Mobile, AL this morning around 11am. Google maps says that should take 17 hours and 1 minute. My brother made it in 13, and stopped in a Subway parking lot to take an hour and a half nap, he says.
My dad calls my grandma, who is featured in my next story, to tell her that my brother made it to Alabama safely, and that he hoped he was down there making him a grandkid. DAD. STOP WITH THE GRANDKIDS. I gave you grand-tortoises and a grand-dog. That needs to suffice for now. (I’m kidding, Dad. Kind of!)
My grandma. She is the kindest, gentlest, sweetest woman I have ever met. If I listed every example as to why, I could easily fill fourteen novels. She’s that wonderful. Today, Riley and I got an Easter card from her – yes, it was addressed to Riley, too. In it was an article from Dr. Peter H. Gott she’d cut out of the Sedalia Democrat about heel spurs. Sometimes, she’ll cut out articles about any place in Minnesota and send them. And I even get recipes from time to time. It’s honestly the most precious thing ever.
My dog. Yes, my dog is my family, so shuddup. He walked 4 miles tonight. That’s impressive for a little puppy. I’m training for The 3 Day (obviously) and Riley is training for The Minnesota Aids Walk on May 21. It’s a 6.2 mile walk, where people do actually bring their dogs. And if my dog can join TEAM AWESOME on the Aids Walk, then he’s gonna do it, dammit. Besides, we like to bond when we walk and he looks tough. I’m not a fan, though, when other people come up with their boxes and tell me my dog is going to be huge. Um, thanks. Then we can both have a complex about our size.