Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Card night with the sisters

On the first Monday of every month, I play cards with my sisters.  The game is Golf, a nine-round game easy enough to be able to play and talk at the same time.  Talk and actually win is another story.

 This past Monday we took pictures.  From the left, Janie, Marilyn, Judy, me, and Toni.  I know, I look like their mother.  I AM the oldest. 

We play two rounds a night, add up the points and the sister with the least points wins.

We started out with one  medal for the winner, but ended up with lst, 2nd and 3rd place medals.  Last night, at Toni's, I said, "We should have booby prizes," and Toni turns, opens a drawer, and brings out two big black wooden Ls for losers. Her husband, Jesse, made them for us.  Thanks Jesse.  I'm pretty much a loser every month.  Of course, I can always say, that L stands for Louise.

I tell my sisters that lately I've been saying that I was raised by my parents in an orphanage.  "Like I never had a doll with hair," I say.  Now Toni jumps up to get the doll she got and still has--a doll with hair!  A bride.  Then she she says the real killer:  "I also had a Madame Alexander doll."

No, no no!  No one in the orphanage ever had a Madame Alexander doll.  That is not possible.  Our frugal mother did not run a thrifty  household by handing out Madame Alexander dolls.  Unless she got them with 500 books of green stamps or, bought it USED and had to have the head replaced.  I refuse to believe that Mother gave one of her daughters--not me--a Madame Alexander doll.  Maybe it was a fake Madam Aleksender doil.  I'll bet that's what it was:  a fake.

I don't have any of the toys of my childhood, because I didn't take care of my things.  Janie took care of HER things.  Why didn't she take care of my things as well?  It wouldn't have taken that much extra effort.

The only bike I ever had was a rebuilt Colgate.  Ever heard of it?

We tell stories.  In somebody's ward, the primary chorister is working the song to death by flailing her arms and bowing them into the shape of the sun and letting her fingers flutter down to show the rain coming down.  You know the gig.  These kids can't read, so you have to show them the words with your body.  When the song is over, a three-year-old in the first row says in a loud voice, "What the hell was that all about?"

When the phone rings, Janie says, "Oh that's Mother.  She calls me this time every night."  (She's been dead for five years).

Marilyn tells us her best time for sleeping is after five when Neil, her husband, gets up.  She can spread out in the bed and--and discover a half eaten peanut butter sandwich on his side of the bed.  It is smushed as if he has lain on it half the night.  Later that day, when he comes home and says he's hungry, she says, "Why don't you finish that peanut butter sandwich you started in bed last night?"  He doesn't even remember getting up and making it.

I love my sisters.  We laugh the same. We all sing alto. We're exceedingly anxious.  Not one of us would ride a ferris wheel.  We don't even ride the sky tram at lagoon.  I did once and hyperventilated through the entire ride.  Janie likes buttermilk and has a large, very large shoe size.  We don't hold it against her.


8 comments:

Sally said...

I am lucky enough to have 3 sisters, and I love them so much. Good sisters are one of life's greatest gifts. My poor sweet daughter has brothers and no sister. Not fair. I worry about who she will turn to later in life for the friendship and support and laughter that is unique among sisters.

Emily said...

Ditto Sally. I read this and thought, I have to have this when my children are grown and gone. I need my sisters near by, not just over the internet.

And I'm the sister with the Madame Alexander doll. Pooh!

Megan said...

My sisters are my best friends. I have 5. I cherish what little time we get together. I really hope that one day when our families are not so young, that we can have more time to laugh and hang out.

Rachel said...

As much as it makes me want to gag to sing it... "Sisters Sisters
There were never such devoted sisters

Never had to have a chaperone "No, sir"
I'm there to keep my eye on her

Caring
Sharing
Every little thing that we are wearing

When a certain gentleman arrived from Rome
She wore the dress and I stayed home

All kinds of weather
We stick together
The same in the rain or sun
Two diff'rent faces
But in tight places
We think and we act as one

Those who've
Seen us
Know that not a thing could come between us

Many men have tried to split us up but no one can
Lord help the mister
Who comes between me and my sister
And Lord help the sister
Who comes between me and my man"
Blehh!

ann cannon said...

I've spent my whole life going "but where are my sisters" in the same way my friend (who thinks she was Eleanor of Aquitaine in a previous life" always says "but where are the servants?"

Nice piece, Louise. I'm jealous.

Melissa said...

I loved this. I laughed hard at the Primary chorister comment because it might have been me...

I have amazing sisters and amazing sisters in law and I hope that someday we all live close enough to play games and laugh. Till then, we'll enjoy each other via technology.

Richardson's B.L.A.H.S. said...

Oh man... the Roos sisters all in the same place at the same time... get's very loud! I love that you all share the same laugh, it means that I could find any of you if I got lost! Oh and I share that laugh and got teased a lot!
I love that you now have medals and L's for the losers! This is getting pretty serious.
You do not look like their mother. You like their sister.

NOBODY said...

I believe my three year old is in Somebody's primary. The pbj in the bed made me laugh out loud.