Messing With Your Sister When She's Tired And Stressed Out Is Tons Of Fun! But Only If She's At Least 300 Miles Away

There I was, halfway through a post that included this:

Oh my gosh, Becky,  I look, like, fifteen years younger. Totally.

And, obviously, this:

It's a chihuahua driving a truck. But I have no idea how he reaches the pedals.

 And, of course, this little culinary delight that I made for dinner:

In which I substituted a warm bed of kale for the salad greens. Then served at our family vacation that included everyone from my 10 year old real cow hamburger eating nephew to my 93 year old grandmother.  Also, it may be the last time my sister puts me in charge of any family reunion meals. In my defense, it wasn't vegetarian haggis. This time.

And a rant about how disappointing these turned out to be:

Because they totally lost the taste test SMACKDOWN with the Lays Dill Pickle chips. By, and I'm just ball parking figures here, at least a thousand quatabazillion times infinity points. Also, I didn't have to eat any dill pickle chips to come up with that score.

But then my sister, on the road home, cozily tucked into a caravan that included our parents, grandmother and her 10 year old son, texted me this:

I'm ready to be home.

Which, no matter how happily and lovingly you tell me you get along with your family, eventually, after a certain number of miles and one too many Harry Belafonte CDs*, is just plain true.  However, it did prompt this textversation. But, mostly because I'm weird. (At least that's what my nephew George says.)

Sister:  We made it to Beaver. Stopping for the night.
Me:  Hey! Didn't we stay in Beaver once on our way home from Colorado? We ate at that Denny's the next morning? Or was it the trip with Jon and Zorra?
Sister: I don't remember.  I don't see a Denny's @ the exit we got off on. Exit 112.
Me: Dude! I remember that exit! It had a huge buffalo in a purple tutu revolving on a replica of a Victrola, right?
Sister: Ummm, no?
Me: Huh. Totally thought that was the exit.  Maybe it was 114? 116?
Sister: Are u being serious?
Me: Obviously.  Hey! Ask the people at the restaurant about the buffalo.  It must be around there somewhere!
Sister:  I'm not asking the people @ the restaurant.  When we leave tmrrw i will look around.  You're crazy.
Me: Mom would do it.
Sister:  You just made me embarrass myself because I guffawed really loud.
Me: Ask about the buffalo.  It'll totally cover that embarrassment up.

Then later that evening:

Sister:  Mom asked about the purple buffalo & they gave her a very weird look & said you must be thinking of another town.
Me:  Maybe it was Cedar City? Or St. George? Can you ask for me?
Sister: No way :), look it up on your "smart phone" :)

And, then for the next two days she refused to ask about the giant rainbow trout wearing roller skates in Jacob's Lake, or the giant lumberjack wearing a purple tutu in Flagstaff, or even take a picture of the pink javelina wearing a purple tutu in Sedona that I KNOW is there. Probably. Kinda. Ok, fine, theoretically, if were're being all technically mathematically scientific.

Then, hours before she made it home, and just after I texted her like twelve times in a row without a response then told her to quit texting me because I was in church, my phone lit up with this text:

Sister: We stopped in Cordes Junction for lunch.  No, we did not see anything w/ a purple tutu.
Me: Are you preempting me?
Sister: Involuntary telepathy.

Touche' awesome sister. Touche'.







*This was a wild guess, based on many family road trips as a kid.

 

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