Growing up, my dad was a joker, and so my sense of humor comes from him. One of the things he taught us is how to laugh at the unlaughable. I'm not going to tell you how we "look for the sunnyside" or any of that kind of crap. What we do is laugh at ourselves, and try not to take things too seriously.

When everything was happening last spring, it was really hard to find a way to laugh at any of it. Brain trauma is serious, and spending weeks not knowing if every day when the phone rang it would be the news that my sister died, was horrible. (There were other things adding to the horrible, but that's for a different day.)

So when my sister woke up, and was going to be released to do rehabilitation in our home town, it was time to start laughing. And getting her to laugh.

The first thing I did, before she was released from the hospital in Pittsburgh, was to draw smiley faces on her toes. I had "threatened" to draw on her earlier, and I meant to make good on that.

Also, she's diabetic, so drawing on her feet would drive my mother bananas.

Everyone at the hospital, and then the nursing home she was released to, knew about the faces on her toes. (Sharpies are good for A LOT of things!!!) Since she couldn't do much for herself those first few weeks, it was inevitable that the Gator would discover what I'd done.

One day, the Gator called and she did her usual "So what's new" bit, and I told her that a rainbow pack of Sharpies was on sale at Staples. At that point, she called me an asshole, and told me that if I didn't behave, she'd have me strip-searched every time I went to visit my sister.

I couldn't stop laughing.

She had been up to visit my sister, and noticed the "black" on her toes. Since my sister is diabetic, my mother's first thought was gangrene (or worse) and so, as she tried to get a better look, my sister kept her legs moving around. When my mom finally caught a foot, and got a look, she asked, "Just when did your sister do this?"

I don't know why the Gator immediately thought of me.

Truth Be Told

A few weeks ago, My Sweetie and I were having a conversation. And in the midst of this conversation, he looked at me calmly and stated, "You know, I believe you are going to go to Hell."

I, of course, ask him, "You're telling me this why?"

He responds with, "You're not a very nice person."

I laughed. "Fourteen and a half years in, and you're just figuring this out? I'm good!"

We both laughed.

Whole Lot of Stuff Goin' On

2014 was Hell. Starting in April, and ending Not Just Yet.

Long story short, my sister was sent by Life Flight with brain trauma. After life-saving surgery, she began having seizures, and was sedated and put on life-support. It took almost 2 weeks to get the seizures under control, and she woke up on Mother's Day last year. She couldn't speak, and couldn't walk...she was released to a nursing home a week before my 96 year old Grandmother died.

Since then, she has progressed to walking, sometimes with a cane, and now comes to my house to play practical jokes. Yay!

My mother is channeling her mother. It wouldn't be so bad, but Grandma wasn't all that nice.

It was also really great that my brother went batshit crazy and decided that the Howler was his arch-nemesis. That culminated at Easter, when he took a for reals tantrum. Since then, he's had it explained (not by me!) to him, and he is now behaving like a sane adult.

2015 is better. Busier, but better.