Thursday, March 10, 2011

Martha Stewart

Ria and Martha Stewart

I bet you didn't know Martha Stewart is my sister. Well, she's not. That's just what I like to call my sister who is three years older than me. It's not because she yells at me when I don't slice the truffles thin enough or because she's been to prison, it's because she knows how to throw one heck of a party.

Did I know she would be like this when we were growing up? Not really. When she was little her nickname was Tigger because she was a bit of a spaz. She would jump on top of me and pin my arms under her legs and tickle torture me until I couldn't breath.

One night when I was sleeping I was awakened by someone or something sitting on top of me. It was too dark to see what it was, so I reached my hand out of my covers only to feel a soft woolly creature. I was deathly afraid of werewolves at that time and thought I was a goner. I spent the rest of the night terrified that I was trapped by a werewolf until I feel asleep. I don't remember until years later my sister telling me it was her. She had throw a sheepskin wool rug on top of me and then sat on me for awhile. I probably fainted because I remember thinking it really was a werewolf.

She wasn't always mean though, most of the time she was my best friend. And in high school when I didn't have anyone to sit by my freshman year, she let me eat lunch next to her and her friends. And they were actually pretty nice to me.

Today Martha Stewart and I live about 20 minutes from each other. We are going out to lunch today with BugaCita. The three of us are pretty tight. We have fun getting together, talking about life and just being silly. I'm so glad Martha Stewart is my sister.

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