This is my one and only brother.
Isn’t he cute? Adoooorable. I call him Young Grasshoppa, a la the Kung Fu TV series (“There are two paths, Young Grasshoppa…”) cuz he’s a punk and he has so much to learn. I am 52 and he’s speeding towards 45 so we’re mature adults, except that we’re not. Here’s what I love about him: he’s a really big dope and has a sick sense of humor. He’s also a husband, a father to three totally fabulous kids, an ass-kicking cyclist, and he has this hotshot job with a medical device company. We don’t see each other that often but we exchange loving emails like this one from yesterday:
Me: Are any of your buddies looking to unload a mountain bike? I don’t want to buy new. Let me know if you hear of one, will ya? Thanks.
Me: You’re a big turd. Your hair sticks up funny from all the poop in it and you smell bad.
Grasshoppa: That would hurt me if I cared.
We can go on and on like this for days. Name-calling and poop references play a big role in our emails. We also exchange lines from movies and song lyrics, trying to stump each other. I am so far ahead of him in this little game, he will never catch up. He really owes me that mountain bike.
The point of this post, and I do have one, is that the past few days have been kinda crappy. (Poop reference!) It’s just little things going wrong but they are dragging me down, like a turd circling the bowl (yet another poop reference! Get ready for more…here they come…) Within the past 72 hours I have flushed a sock down the toilet, flooded the bathroom, whipped up an inedible batch of macaroni and cheese, bought a used handbag on eBay that smells like kitty litter, and nearly cut off my left index finger. Just little things. My email exchange with Grasshoppa made me laugh. That’s a good thing because this winter seems to be going on forever and my mental health feels a little fragile because of it — not entirely off-the-rails fragile, but maybe just a little too close to full-on-freak-show-scream-attack-in-a-parking-lot fragile. In addition to the above-mentioned mishaps, I feel beat down by the below zero temps (again today!), the tons of snow that will not melt, and the way my pants fit. I’ve lost some weight and this is a good thing cuz weight needed to get lost but I’m at that awkward stage where my belly is somewhat reduced but my butt is still large so my pants are tight across the rump and sagging in front. I look like I have my pants on backwards. This too shall pass. For cryin’ out loud, I hope this too shall pass. In the meantime, I have deeply sentimental emails from my brother to cheer me up, like this original birthday poem he sent to me last week, and he actually sent it ON my birthday! Sniff! So thoughtful!
“Happy birthday to you
You live in a zoo,
You look like a monkey
And you smell like one too.
And I’m not as old as you!”