Thursday, January 29, 2009


The list of things I care about that are none of my business and are of no consequence to my often inconsequential-on-its-own life is long and sticky.

And against my better judgment (for I actually do have better judgment), today, I will share one with you.

I have five sisters. They are mine. They are not yours. You are not in my family. I'm quite territorial about my sissies. Next to my husband, I love those girls the mostest in the whole wide world. I love calling them my sisters.

Who does your hair? Oh my sister does.

Whose rad food blog is that? Oh, my sister's.

Who painted that rockin' piece in your front room downstairs? Oh, my sister did.

Who are those insanely attractive people in that photo on your wall? Oh, they're my sisters.

It's a sacred title conferred on only those who actually are my sister. I can tell someone they are like a sister to me, or that they would make a good sister, but they are never my sister. And truth be told, during this particular incarnation, they ain't gonna be.

Thus, even though many would call it right and good, when my sister Whitney flings "sister" about as if one can earn such a title through marriage, it really chaps my hide.

Whoops. I really just wrote that. Sorry, Whit.

What I mean: my dear sister, Whitney (who my feelings about are selfish enough to move me to write this blatant, tactless blog post), has seven or eight sister in-laws resulting from her marriage into the world's largest family. And I like them all. People like Whitney's in-laws don't come around all that often. To explain: I'm her sister; I'm not one of them. Yet whenever I encounter any one of their clan, they remember my name, the name of my husband, my dog, and the most recent activities I've been engaged in. They are good, thoughtful people. And very, very funny. And Whitney was ever so kind to bring them into our lives.

But those womenfolk are not her sisters. Yet there are times she calls them her sisters.

They didn't grow up with her. She didn't steal and sell their clothes to Plato's Closet when she was mad at them! They weren't with her when she exploded an entire gallon of milk and it got all over the kitchen ceiling. They weren't the one pouring her juice when she just took the glass from under the sticky stream and it splashed onto the floor. They weren't there when she busted her fingers at Lake Powell. Or when she busted her arm in the basement. They didn't shove her at the stairs, necessitating stitches in her forehead. They weren't in the tree house when she slid down the ladder and tore up her thigh. They didn't [accidentally] bleach out her hair to look like a skunk. She didn't fly out to Hawaii for their college graduation! Though competent, thoughtful, and very pretty women, they aren't actually her sisters.

Yet she confers the sacred title on them.

Their true title is Sister In-law. Not Sister. Sister in-law is a decent, acceptable (not to mention--though I am right now--true) title. But she drops the "in-law" part.

It's none of my business, yet I cringe whenever I hear or read it. I take it as an insult. How pathetically egocentric is that? Answer: Very, very.

Truly, I know it's none of my business.


Tara Fears said...

I like it! Love your blog...

whitneyingram said...

You just with YOU had cool sisters in law. Mine are cool, funny and pretty. Kind of like my sisters.

BTW, I never got stitches in my head.

Megan said...

Whit, you could be right.

And yes you did get stitches. I pushed you at the stairs in the first Provo house. We were super little.

And don't tell me I remember that wrong.

Sue said...

(Megan is right - you did get stitches. I was there.)

"Who produced all those talented and attractive sisters?"

Oh, that would be my mother and my father...

(Credit where credit is due.)

Julie said...

I agree...I'm territorial when it comes to my sisters...we are, however, sleezas. There are only three of us. You can't be in the sleeza club unless you have been birthed by my mother.

Megan and Keli'i said...

I don't have any sisters! Five brothers...but you don't have any brothers, so maybe we could swap sometimes...Nah! I'm territorial too. Those are MY brothers! And I hate it too when people call their in-laws Mom and Dad, without specifying. I find that horrifying. They're NOT your mom and dad...hello?

Janeen said...

Never witnessed the stitches, but I did whiteness other Whit incidents, such as something with a boat and a wave runner and also a 4 wheeler.

I love my sister in-laws. I wish that I would have at least grown up on the same block so that I knew them better. Then dropping the in-law is really justified!

cat+tadd=sam said...

I feel honored that you are so obsessive of me!

Mal Robin said...

Im pretty sure that post was about Whit Cat... not the rest of us... we are old hags.

Courtney said...

Well, Mark thinks I'm cool...

[Morgan] said...

once someone asked me where i found such a yummy recipe. i said i got it from rookie cookie. then i said, her sister did my awesome blog header and oh, her other sister cuts my hair.
you have great sisters. you should be possessive.
i'm glad to know you and a couple of your talented sisters.

Megan said...

Morgan, that was very sweet. I'm glad that we can be of service!