Weekend Ramblings

I got to thinking about families with all boys or all girls. Usually, people I meet who are from a family of same sex siblings always wish for a brother or sister. I only have a sister, and I really wanted a brother. My husband has two brothers and two sisters. But, their age gap is pretty big.
I think one of the reasons we get along so well is the fact that he satisfies that need I have for a brother. I by NO MEANS am saying I have brotherly feelings toward my husband. There are things I do to him that, if we were related, I would get arrested for. No, I am saying that it adds a bit of bonding to our relationship that members of mixed families have already formed. I feel close to my husband because I can joke around and fart in front of him. I can tell him dirty jokes and talk about hot chicks with him. He makes fun of me when I cry at movies. I couch him on proper English. Sometimes, we revel in the victory of being “right” with petty gestures and childhood taunts.
I am never more comfortable than when I am alone with my husband. I am comfortable surrounded by a thousand people if my husband is with me, but being alone with him is the fuzzy-sock, fat pants, hair in the scrunchy kind of comfortable that’s hard to find.

My sister came over Sunday and helped me bake bread. Now, my sister and I aren’t close. Not in that see each other every day, talk on the phone constantly, can’t make a decision without her opinion kind of way. We talk often, but with her busy child filled lifestyle and my busy don’t have a child lifestyle, we don’t get together often.
I couldn’t tell you the last time we baked together. There is something you need to know about me. I am a bit anal when it comes to the preparation of my food. When I put butter or jelly on toast, I have to make sure there is an even coat spread all over the bread, corners and all. Every piece of surface needs to be covered. If I have a waffle, each hole needs to be filled with an equal amount of butter and syrup. Meat on sandwiches must be evenly dispersed over the whole piece of bread. Every ingredient needs to be present in a bite, no matter which side of the sandwich you bite into.
It goes further. I like stews and casseroles, anything where the ingredients are mixed up. This way I can pick through and get an even amount of ingredients for each bite. When I bake, each ingredient must be measured carefully and precisely. I have two sets of measuring cups and three sets of measuring spoons. I have three mixing bowls. I love to bake. But it has to be precise.
So when my sister came over yesterday I watched in amazement as she carefully cut the access flower off the top of the measuring cup with a knife. Each tablespoon of powder was immaculately measured. I thought it was just me! This leads me to ponder whether my analness is something of my making, or my unconscious obedience to genetic disposition. Can I even help it?
Interesting.

I was watching a reality show called "Populairty Contest." People were competing for a $50,000 prize by getting more votes from the people of this small town. It was the final episode, so there were only two left. The guy, Alex, went to the local school to give the kids a baseball lesson. During his interview afterwards he said, "I really enjoyed touching those little kids." He followed it up with, "I've touched a lot of people in this town, and have been touched by many in return." Ah ha-ha, wait, am I the only one who finds this funny?