Seven New Years Eves ago, Husband and I got home from our 4pm British New Years Eve toast - which is the best way to celebrate because you’re home before 8pm! - to find my half-bro a useless lump on the couch and his wife-to-be pissed off and sad in the other room. Lots of yelling ensued – mostly me shouting “You didn’t come to fucking California to spend fucking New Years Eve on my fucking couch!’ or some variation of that. I’m pretty sure there were more curse words. I can work a curse word. It’s a skill. Anyway, an hour later, we dropped them off at the train station, told them to pay attention the route we drove so they could make the walk home and sent them off to San Francisco for the night to experience all New Years Eve in a big city can be. Was I a perfect host? No. Was I a perfect sister, half or otherwise? No. Was I a perfect ass? Yes! Yes I was. But look, here we are, seven years later and he’s now this guy! Can I take the credit for this? No, I really can’t. Am I proud as heck that he got off his ass and did something with his brains? YES, I AM!
Congrats Kyalo on a job well done! You have made this half-sis awfully proud.
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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