Gayle Tales

Monday, July 25, 2011

My Sister, My Self

I just got back from Alaska. I was visiting my sister.

My sister is pretty special.

I can't think of a single person in this world who knows me better than my sister.

She knows the child that I was, the teen-age that I came to be, and the adult that I am.

She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink.
-- Barbara Alpert

My memory is not the greatest these days, but I honestly can't think of a time when we have fought with each other.

When we disagree, I have to think about it really hard because it's like disagreeing with myself. We are so much alike that it's impossible not to give great consideration to her point of view.

Yet we are very different too. But differences that might drive me crazy in someone else don't seem to bother me in my sister.

A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves - a special kind of double.
-- Toni Morrison

My sister lives far away from me, but that doesn't matter. She is only a phone call away.

I couldn't imagine what it would be like to go through the ups and downs of life without her.

“There can be no situation in life in which the conversation of my dear sister will not administer some comfort to me.”
--Mary Worley Montagu

Oh, I just remembered something.
We did have a fight one time.
I have a scar above my eye to prove it.
Don't get Lori mad when she has a baton in her hand! :)

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Spilled Paint and Grey Grout

I have been putting my daughter, Kerry, to work around the house this week for my sake and for hers.

Today she was given the job of painting some trim in my bedroom that has been bothering me for about 3 years. You see, I painted the rest of my bedroom 3 years ago, then got sidetracked by life and I left a few windows (I hate to paint windows!) and door trim undone.

So I went down to the basement and found the can of paint, stirred it up, put the cover back on, and carried it up to my bedroom.

I carried it through the unfinished part of the basement,
through the laundry room,
through the finished carpeted basement,
up the carpeted basement stairs,
through the tiled foyer,
up the carpeted stairs,
and into my bedroom.

I had brought along a big piece of cardboard to put the paint can on so nothing would get on my bedroom floor. I set it down on the cardboard and proceeded to show my daughter what she needed to do.

It was at this point that I noticed there was paint on the bamboo floor and paint dripped on both of my feet.

I looked at the paint can and there was nothing on the outside of the can. It was clean.

I picked it up and there was a pool of white paint collecting underneath the can. Oh S@!&%

The paint had been drizzling out the bottom of the can all the way from the basement!

I won't bore you with the details of the clean-up, with the exception of an amazing discovery!

The grout in the tile of our foyer really isn't dark brown!!!!!

After cleaning a patch of white paint off the grout with a toothbrush, I discovered the grout is really grey! Imagine that!

Since the floor was laid back in 1988, I have washed it many times. But I have never noticed the grout was changing color.

It made me wonder, what other things in my life have gone unnoticed?

And what will it take to make me notice them?