We headed home this weekend to participate in my sister’s singing event. And by participate, I mean that we watched and she sang. But sometimes sitting and watching is more stressful than singing. I mean, it must be, because my mom spent the first moments of my sister’s solo with her eyes closed and mouthing the words of the song just in case my sister forget. I guess her plan was to scream the word from the audience …
(By the way, I had no idea that my sister didn’t have a soul. What other reason could there be for all of the pictures to have a bright white light where her face should be?)
I suppose that I should confess that hearing Little Sister sing with a symphony was pretty cool. And she got to dress up in a ball gown. I considered dressing up in a matching ball gown but I didn’t want to be a show-off.
When she was done, and had received no less than four bouquets of flowers, the standing ovations, the accolades from one lady who said she was moved to tears and another who said she couldn’t stand scratchy sopranos (we have no idea if she considered Little Sister to be a scratchy soprano or not), we headed to a fancy dinner at the fashionably late hour of 9:00 at … Bennigans.
And the classiness of the evening quickly devolved into bad jokes, funny insults, and food pictures. Granted, we weren’t at 100% because Middle Sister was missing. But I think we held our own.
This is the final result of our evening. When we were little, we weren’t allowed to play with our food. But now that we are older, I think she has given up on discipline. I think it would be great if I could be banished to my bedroom to read a book (although I don’t want to go to bed without dinner).
Anyway, my darling, mature husband started it. He put a bunch of ketchup on my plate even though I had already finished all of my fries. Which of course required Little Sister to add two croutons from Grandfather’s salad. And it just went from there. When we were done, even the waitress appreciated our artistic abilities. So if this whole finance thing doesn’t work out for me, I think I may have a future in culinary art.