Sisters

So many good things about our trip to Utah. However, this post is about my sisters. I actually only own one sister that was birthed from the same parents as me. This same sister was the master mind behind the whole idea to up and fly to Utah. She is living in Georgia right now, playing Marry Poppins. She was going to be in Utah for a week and half and mentioned, "Hey, you should go, too!" about a month ago. I'm glad she wouldn't stop nagging me, and treating me like I have a secret money tree growing somewhere, because I had the best time. Ever.

We could sit, and...be. Just exist together for the short time we had.

The five of us are like two-peas-in-a-pod. Only there are five. All so different; all so similar. All of us together is a lethal combination. We spent pretty much 24/7 together, the whole team, wreaking havoc on Utah County...or at least my parents front room, taking over the place. It was perfect.

Everyone knows two is better than one...

Me, mother, and our two baby J's...

My Mom. So similar. So, so, very similar. I can't get enough of the woman. I even made her take the whole week off of work once I showed up, so we could maximize our time together. I love having a mother who I adore. She is a best friend. She is, however, a more refined version of me. I still have a few years to refine, right? This doesn't mean she isn't always thinking the same thing as me, or she wouldn't truthfully react to a situation the same as me. Nope. I'm convinced that all it means is, at this point in my life, she just knows how to hold her tongue better! HA! I'm still a work in progress. Even when one of us girls says something "out of line", and she gives us "that look", I still can find that smile she is hiding back, secretly pleased with our clever whit. She can't hide it that good. That's how I know we are the same--I'm simply less refined. But put all us girls behind closed doors, and WAH-LAH!! she is just as immature, crude, and feisty as the rest of us. She is one of us. Or we are one of her... My sisters. Hey, nice swim suit.

I love this picture. Oldie, but goodie.

Pee-Spot. Or Liz. Or Liz-bot. I prefer to call her "Pee-Spot". It just fits. A sister who is feisty, and doesn't know how to bite her tongue, either. For good or bad. This usually causes for great awkward moments while in public---awkward for the public, not us. Oh no. She is wonderful and beautiful and so a part of me, that I wouldn't know what to do without her in my life. She can send me a text message that says, "I hate you", and then cuddle up with me on the couch afterwards, all things forgiven. I wake up every morning to text message from our, and our daily conversations start there, and end somewhere in the middle of the night.

My other two sisters were actually birthed by my Aunt Lori and Uncle Brett. Some people would say we are actually cousins, but our souls tell us other wise.

When I was younger, everytime I would draw pictures, I would draw myself with dark hair, because I thought my cousins were BEAUTIFUL...and they had dark hair.

There is Gina. She is one of those good people. You know? Solid to the core: goodness. She likes to pretend like she gets embarrassed by our wild ways, but, like my mother, revels in the insanity of it all. She is the calm one between us all, making it all the better when we get her to be immature with the rest of us. I am like the big sister that is always making her do things that she doesn't-want-to-but-really-does-only-needs-someone-to-laugh-with-her-so-she-remembers-it's-funny-not-bad (like walking around BYU campus in adult sized zipper-pajamas that a 5 year would covet, just because they were on sale at target. You know, annoying, immature, pointless things) I'm grateful to be that person--always willing to help you stoop to my level of immaturity.

I look like a grandmother.

They love eachother.

Then Whittle. She is a free spirit. Rowdie. Un-controllable. Sassy. She is not afraid of what anyone thinks of her. She is one of those rebels-without-a-cause, that really doesn't do anything rebellious. At all. Something crazy like J-walking gives her a high. She simply doesn't want to play by other peoples rules, and I adore that about her! Her and Liz were mainly the source of entertainment for me and Gina, the freak-shows they are. It's fun to watch them, remembering what it was like to be young and wild, never have a bed time, and yet always have energy for the next day. I like her, because, as much as she would hate to hear this from an old-frumpy cousin, she reminds me of... me.

Cheeeeeese.

Beautiful.

I love my sisters. All four of them. Mom. Liz. Gina. Whittle. I don't get sad when I leave them, either, because I know this is not our last adventure, or one of those times that won't happen again. Because I know, as soon as we are together again, we will be inseparable, stay up all night, cuddle all in the same bed, talk about boys, be inappropriate together, and do everything and nothing all at once... just how it should be.

Existing together.

...Until next time.