Feb 13, 2007 17:24
I got my birthday present from my brother just now (a day early), because he was insistent that I open it a mere three seconds after the items in question were actually purchased. We were at the grocery store when the thought dawned on him that tomorrow is my birthday and he had yet to procure a present, so I was banished to the car while he and my mother ran into the dollar store and threw some last-minute items together in a bag. I was fine with this, as it gave me an opportunity to prop my feet up on the dashboard, lean back, suck down the last of my free caramel Ice Blended (immense love for the Coffee Bean) and start one of my new books. (I got two Borders certificates for my birthday, so I went out and bought three new books off the recommended fiction list. Chocolat, the curious incident of the dog in the night-time, and a book called Mrs. something-or-other about a man with three ex-wives.) Anyway, so I just opened my present, and found it to be a rather odd assortment of items that all made me smile. A pair of pink socks with the Sweetarts logo on them, a green pair of the kind of socks I like to wear under my lace-up boots, one of those foil-and-plastic pom poms in bright magenta and silver (this one was a joke, a nod to my extreme dislike of all most cheerleaders), and two luridly pink items that appear to go in a set, a sequined crown that says "BIRTHDAY PRINCESS" in obnoxiously glittery letters and two pink hairbands exploding with pink tulle and plastic hearts. He says he wanted me to open it now so I could wear them to school tomorrow. I'll definitely wear the hairbands--they're hilarious. But the tiara is a bit of a stretch. We'll have to see just how rosy I'm feeling tomorrow morning.
He also gave me a mylar balloon, and immediately pressed me to name it (that kid names everything, I swear). Flustered, I blurted out the first name I thought of: Fabio. (Don't ask why it was the first name I thought of--I have no answer.) So now I have this bright red heart-shaped balloon named Fabio bobbing around my room smiling at me. Yeesh. That's almost disconcerting to think about. But it is kind of cute.
Anyway, this weekend was pretty fun. Saturday night was spent at a French cafe with Alex and two of her dance friends to celebrate her sweet sixteen, and Sunday was spent mostly in the company of my favorite nephew, my Noah bug, who will proudly hold up his hand and inform you that he is "this many" years old, due to be six in a couple of months. He was feeling absurdly antisocial at this gathering, and spent most of the time in the den hiding in the space between my grandfather's armchair and the wall. This space was already occupied by a floor lamp, which he stayed at least a foot away from at all times, and when I asked him why he was avoiding it he told me with grave sincerity, "If I sit near it, I'm afraid I'll get electricity on my bottom." I love that kid like no other, I swear to God. We've been inseparable since the day he was born. Literally. I got to hold him when he was all pink and wrinkly and new, and he looked up at me and started babbling away in that secret gurgly language that only babies understand. At family parties we became inseparable. Our two names merged into one hyphenated one. It was always, "Go get Linnea-and-Noah for cake," or "Where is Linnea-and-Noah?" And when he was smaller he used to have this prepossession with bellybuttons, like some little kids do, for whatever reason. I still remember this one day at a family party I wasn't feeling too well, so I was lying down on the couch half-asleep when I suddenly felt this rush of cold air hit my stomach. I looked down and saw that three-year-old Bug had pulled my shirt up a little and proceeded to smile hugely and give me a big sticky birthday-cake-frosting kiss on my bellybutton. Talk about making a girl's heart melt. I love kids.
Speaking of which, my brother and I have gotten closer lately, too. It took me a while to notice, but he's matured a lot in the past year or so. Plus, he confides in me now, standing in my doorway until I beckon him in and spinning into this scphiel about whatever's on his mind. He's also starting to develop the same tastes as me. First it was the Panic! at the Disco obsession, which sprouted into more music we have in common. Then I picked up Law and Order: Criminal Intent as my newest addiction of choice (in addition to my Broadway Musical Obsession reperatoire, I seem to be accumulating a list of beloved TV shows as well. Hrm), and now he's into that, too. Well, he's into Eames, at least. I had been accusing him for a while about having a crush on her--only teasing, never actually believing what I was saying, just throwing it in with my same old snark about his being the only CI fan who had to have the episodes taped for him because they aired past his bedtime. But today, he totally gave himself away. We were sitting quietly watching an episode on my computer, when he suddenly blurts out, "Eames looks different." Flummoxed, I replied, "Well...this is Season One. She's six years younger than the last episode you saw." "Oh," he said dismissively, and I figured the discussion was closed. Then, a few moments later: "It's her hair. It's cut different." "Er...yes, I suppose it is." About five minutes later, he asked me what her first name was. (He seems to regard me as the recepticle of all L&O knowledge, when in truth, it's a relatively new addiction. But that question I did know the answer to.) "Uh, Alexandra."
He wrinkled his nose. "She doesn't look like an Alexandra." "What does she look like, then?" (I'm always curious to know what kind of names people associate with what kind of faces.) "I don't know," he replied. "What's her real name?" "Kathryn." "She doesn't look like a Kathryn either." After a moment, "Actually, she looks like the kind of Kathryn that would go by a shortened version." "Uh...they call her Katie." (This I learned from a Wikipedia article about the show when I first got into it.)
"Why so curious about Eames?" I asked a few minutes later. "Got a little crush on her or something?" He rolled his eyes, but if I can see in the dark as well as I think I can, he was blushing. So, like the wonderful big sister I am, I kept teasing him. "I can see you going for that kind of girl. The one that could take you down if she felt like it." "I doubt she could in real life." "No, but her character definitely could. She's got wicked quick gun-drawing reflexes. I've seen two episodes where she shoots people, and she killed them both." He looked sort of worried, so I hastily amended, "Not that she wanted to or anything. She had to. She didn't like it." "No one would." As I sat for a moment wondering whether or not to shatter this naive sentiment by reminding him that we were watching a show about murderers, he added as a quiet afterthought, "I want to see those episodes." It was only through immense effort on my part that I managed not to burst out laughing.
It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm making brownies for my English class. I'm excited. <33