my younger sister, L, to visit. We talked, walked, ate cheesecake and otmeal raisin cookies, look music DVD because we have no money to go to the theater, we got secretly happy because they refused to sell alcohol without ID. Fingering smooth and I can not be more different: I think I have the same amount of friends-in-serious that she has "groups of friends" (the group from school, hockey, the facu, MBA). She is neat, quiet, conciliatory. I enjoy arguing. And so on. And yet we get along, we laugh at the absurdities same , disapprove of the same things (women who do not work by choice, the term "gated community", families with many children), we are staunch allies. Having sisters is the best.
We took several pictures in the city and sent them by mail chronic Dad. Yesterday, my phone rings, it was dad, had received the photos. I expected, "what beautiful photos, thanks for them to me, I'm going to send to print" (or something). Of course, Dad is a perfectionist chronic. We had conversations like this many times:
EC: I'm dead, now part of XXX surrendered.
PC: And how did it go?
EC: And masomenos had a question about a text that just had not read ... but I think the other four are fine.
PC (here any normal father says not to worry, I must have gone well. But chronic father): And why you had not read it? You did not know you were going to take? The so-called
yesterday:
PC: I received Photos
EC: Ah, how good, you liked?
PC: they are all backlit. This first one, did you get you to your sister in a corner ... do not look good.
EC: Ah, well, the thing we liked the building and ...
PC (interrupting): Yes, all you see is the building!
EC: And the others?
PC: And, they are backlit, does not see their faces, what you should know this ... (mini photography class. Dad is an engineer, took pictures on vacations and birthday).
EC: Well, pa. I'll consider.
My sister and I are alike in one thing: we are very disciplined. My two older sisters as well.
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