Today, my older brother is moving in with me. Life circumstances have taken him in a new direction and as a result, we are ‘shacking up’ for the next year.
I have never officially lived with someone. I spent 4 months in the same apartment with an ex-boyfriend once. But that wasn’t the kind of living arrangement that one would think of when saying you have lived with someone. You see, he was addicted to cocaine and I was there to help support his recovery. I grew up so much in those few short months.
My brother has been slowing moving-in over the past 3 months. He travels a lot because of his work, so he’s spent a few weeks at my house already. His room is kind of set up. He needs some furniture, but his presence is enough that I feel a bit safer. I’ve tried to tend to his needs as best I can but he likes his privacy.
My brother is the social-lite of the century. He goes out often, has lots of friends and is always the life of the party. I am much more introverted that Jeff. I do not go out nearly as often, nor do I have as many friends as he does. This brings me much happiness as I am looking forward to being a part of his life more.
There is only a two year difference between Jeff and I. He will be turning 34, I will be turning 32. As a little girl, he teased me to tears often. I loved it.
I can remember fondly when my parents went out, and we had a babysitter, we would play pranks on the babysitter. There was a cubby space behind the coat closet at the front door. It was a pantry converted into a crawl space. It also had access to a sliding panel door between the main hallway and the kitchen. Jeff would tell the babysitter he had to go to the bathroom, pretend he was going upstairs, and sneak into the crawl space. He would bang on the wall, and move the sliding panel door and the babysitter would freak out. She had no idea where the noise was coming from or who was making the noise. I supported his evilness by telling the babysitter that it was just a known fact that we had a ghost in our house. I would caution the babysitter not to make the ghost mad, telling her it was the spirit of a young boy who was shot in our basement. The part about a young man being shot in our basement is true. But there was no ghost, or at least no ghost that I was aware of.
Another fond memory was how we used to play WWF wrestling. He would be Rowdy Rowdy Piper (he has red hair) I would be Hulk Hogan (I had blond hair – no female wrestlers in those days to admire). We would stuff pillows up our shirts and take position at either end of the room. We would run at each other full speed and knock into each other, the pillows throwing us back across the room upon impact. We would laugh hysterically, get up and do it again…over and over and over.
We also liked to play records on my dad’s record player. That was until I frisbee’d the Billy Joel record across the room at my brother when he teased me and the record shattered. Dad put a stop to our record listening when I made that mistake. That was the day I thought Billy Joel died. Turns out,he didn’t. But my brain was making some sort of weird connection that upon shattering his record, I had killed him.
Then of course, there was the time we played church. We were raised Catholic. Attending church each Sunday in our best clothes and attended parochial school where each room was crowned with a cross just above the entryway. The cross always had Jesus nailed to it, and blood dripping. I would usher myself quickly through the doorway, thinking the blood might drip on me. Jeff would always be the priest and I would be the nun. We would smoosh bread into a mini host, imprinting the cross and it and use red kool-aid for wine. We used our parents wedding bible to read scripture. Turns out the glass coffee table couldn’t support the impact of the bible and it shattered into a million pieces.
Then of course, there was the time the tree fell down and we tried to use the chainsaw to cut the tree and stack the wood before dad got home. It’s a wonder we are still alive.
Although I am very nervous about not having a lot of time to myself, I must say that I welcome my brother home with a lot of excitement and anticipation. One thing is for sure. My house will be hustling and bustling with activity…kids, friends, parties.
My brother earned the nickname “Krusty” in military flight school. To save him some face (for sure I will post pictures of his hilariousness this summer to embarrass the hell out of him), I won’t share with you how we got that name, but rest assured, it will be the “Summer of Krusty 2009”, making good on my #9 New Years Resolution no doubt.
My brother just called, to tell me how his drive from the south to the north is going. To give you an idea of his personality and sense of humor, he left me a 5 minute message, titled, “The Joy of Sirius Radio – Playboy Style”. I guess the playboy channel on Sirius Satellite radio comes highly recommended from my brother. This shortly after I realized last night that my brother set my TV to default to the Fox News network when I turn it on. You see, my political views sit a bit more left than my brother. Sigh, I do love it!
Wish me luck and wish me fun!
I have never officially lived with someone. I spent 4 months in the same apartment with an ex-boyfriend once. But that wasn’t the kind of living arrangement that one would think of when saying you have lived with someone. You see, he was addicted to cocaine and I was there to help support his recovery. I grew up so much in those few short months.
My brother has been slowing moving-in over the past 3 months. He travels a lot because of his work, so he’s spent a few weeks at my house already. His room is kind of set up. He needs some furniture, but his presence is enough that I feel a bit safer. I’ve tried to tend to his needs as best I can but he likes his privacy.
My brother is the social-lite of the century. He goes out often, has lots of friends and is always the life of the party. I am much more introverted that Jeff. I do not go out nearly as often, nor do I have as many friends as he does. This brings me much happiness as I am looking forward to being a part of his life more.
There is only a two year difference between Jeff and I. He will be turning 34, I will be turning 32. As a little girl, he teased me to tears often. I loved it.
I can remember fondly when my parents went out, and we had a babysitter, we would play pranks on the babysitter. There was a cubby space behind the coat closet at the front door. It was a pantry converted into a crawl space. It also had access to a sliding panel door between the main hallway and the kitchen. Jeff would tell the babysitter he had to go to the bathroom, pretend he was going upstairs, and sneak into the crawl space. He would bang on the wall, and move the sliding panel door and the babysitter would freak out. She had no idea where the noise was coming from or who was making the noise. I supported his evilness by telling the babysitter that it was just a known fact that we had a ghost in our house. I would caution the babysitter not to make the ghost mad, telling her it was the spirit of a young boy who was shot in our basement. The part about a young man being shot in our basement is true. But there was no ghost, or at least no ghost that I was aware of.
Another fond memory was how we used to play WWF wrestling. He would be Rowdy Rowdy Piper (he has red hair) I would be Hulk Hogan (I had blond hair – no female wrestlers in those days to admire). We would stuff pillows up our shirts and take position at either end of the room. We would run at each other full speed and knock into each other, the pillows throwing us back across the room upon impact. We would laugh hysterically, get up and do it again…over and over and over.
We also liked to play records on my dad’s record player. That was until I frisbee’d the Billy Joel record across the room at my brother when he teased me and the record shattered. Dad put a stop to our record listening when I made that mistake. That was the day I thought Billy Joel died. Turns out,he didn’t. But my brain was making some sort of weird connection that upon shattering his record, I had killed him.
Then of course, there was the time we played church. We were raised Catholic. Attending church each Sunday in our best clothes and attended parochial school where each room was crowned with a cross just above the entryway. The cross always had Jesus nailed to it, and blood dripping. I would usher myself quickly through the doorway, thinking the blood might drip on me. Jeff would always be the priest and I would be the nun. We would smoosh bread into a mini host, imprinting the cross and it and use red kool-aid for wine. We used our parents wedding bible to read scripture. Turns out the glass coffee table couldn’t support the impact of the bible and it shattered into a million pieces.
Then of course, there was the time the tree fell down and we tried to use the chainsaw to cut the tree and stack the wood before dad got home. It’s a wonder we are still alive.
Although I am very nervous about not having a lot of time to myself, I must say that I welcome my brother home with a lot of excitement and anticipation. One thing is for sure. My house will be hustling and bustling with activity…kids, friends, parties.
My brother earned the nickname “Krusty” in military flight school. To save him some face (for sure I will post pictures of his hilariousness this summer to embarrass the hell out of him), I won’t share with you how we got that name, but rest assured, it will be the “Summer of Krusty 2009”, making good on my #9 New Years Resolution no doubt.
My brother just called, to tell me how his drive from the south to the north is going. To give you an idea of his personality and sense of humor, he left me a 5 minute message, titled, “The Joy of Sirius Radio – Playboy Style”. I guess the playboy channel on Sirius Satellite radio comes highly recommended from my brother. This shortly after I realized last night that my brother set my TV to default to the Fox News network when I turn it on. You see, my political views sit a bit more left than my brother. Sigh, I do love it!
Wish me luck and wish me fun!
2 comments:
How lovely to share memories of the past of you and your brother.
You were quite mischievous when you were younger. I had a good giggle at the babysitter story.
My sister tormented me when I was younger and I hated it. We're complete and total opposites but we somehow get along wonderfully.
A few weeks ago I watched a rerun of Jimmy Kimmel. He had Mickey Rourke as a guest and as a surprise for him, Rowdy Piper. I never had any interest in the WWE back then like I do now.
No need to wish you good luck because everything will work out just fine with you and your brother.
P.S. How did the tree fall?
I was the one tormenting when we were kids. My younger sister, that is.
Good luck with the living arrangements. I can't wait to read future posts about situations that arise.
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