My very dear sister in law sent me George Clooney for Christmas.  Yes, I got Georged for Christmas.  He came champagne in hand with a sweet message inviting all the beautiful ladies in the world to have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  While I will not mention her name (you’ve probably noticed that I don’t), her initials are PMS.  I kid you not.  While most in the family feel that I am the bitch, she is the one with those initials.  I appreciate the irony, even if you do not. She’s damned near a saint.  I know she’s not technically damned near a saint.  I have no proof of miracles (unless you consider being married to my brother in law for quite a long time).   We have dirt on each other, (sisters share) and she has never divulged and neither will I.  I mean I don’t know know where the skeletons are buried…I kid, there aren’t any skeletons…that I know of.  PMS is just another sister.  She isn’t a sister that I knew I had my whole life.  She’s the sister I didn’t know I needed until she showed up.  The other three were always there, and I knew I could count on them.  I’m not short changing DNA.  I’m just saying that sometimes in life’s comedic system of checks and balances sometimes…rarely, but sometimes…you come out ahead.

Now let me tell you about her.  She knows without a doubt that I love my husband sincerely and deeply.  She recognizes that I would do George Clooney in a half heart beat if given the chance.  He’s on my list.  I know that if given the chance my precious hubby would nail Jennifer Aniston like the speediest carpenter you’ve ever seen.  Bless his heart, it might be over before it begins and part of the deal is that we only get the one chance.  Two or more is an affair, and that’s off limits.  So my sister from another mother, this non-vag sister of mine, sends me George Clooney for Christmas.  She knew that getting all warm and melty over him is not against the rules, plus she knew that the fact that we both appreciate the beauty of this man.  I don’t necessarily mean the physical beauty.  It’s the whole package.  I have followed him from the days he showed up toting deliveries for Mrs. Garrison, to his shaggy haired role on Roseanne (as Jackie’s love interest…yuck!).  I watched him court Sela Ward on Sisters, and couldn’t believe he left ER to do movies.  I thought for sure he was a goner, but not George.  The mellow mouthed man dominated the screen whether small or silver.  Everything he touches turns to gold, and that is the reason we (and by we I mean all women with a pulse) want him to touch us.  We all want to bathe in his golden light, even if just for a minute.  Yes, his toast is to all the beautiful women in the world and you may not see yourself as beautiful.  Look harder.  There is something beautiful in all of us.  In PMS it is the complete and utter joy of family.  She has always been attractive, but it is the glow being with family gives her that makes her beautiful.  My beauty (in my opinion) comes from my sense of humor.  I can usually find something to laugh about in any situation.  You see PMS accepted me as family as soon as we met, and I knew I was home.  She has said it was because I took the pressure off of her with our mother in law.  She doesn’t need me for that any longer. Now, I make her laugh.  Today’s blog is less about the crap that getting old and fat and having your lap sit on your lap even if you do manage to lose a few pounds causes.  Today’s blog is about Christmas.  It’s about knowing that sometimes the best gift you can give someone for Christmas is humor.

Recognizing the humor in life, and knowing you’ll never get out alive is funny in itself.  Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, isn’t that what they say?  Well I can’t stand the smell of smoke and I’m allergic to dust so I intend to live forever.  I intend to live eternally with full gusto.  If I have to go, my children have orders to take me to a taxidermist.  I want to be stuffed and mounted (puns fully intended) and propped up in plain sight with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  Why?  Because I didn’t do those things in life, and I think irony is funny.  Those of you who truly know me may ask about the pain.  Pain?  Oh please, I live with pain daily.  Those worried about the economy have been heard to worry that they will starve to death if they lose much more.  They think that’s what poor is.  Poor is not having family to love you…I’m good.  Old?  Of course, old happens until dead happens…we are all of us getting older.  It’s how we go about getting old that defines us.  Preachy?  Obviously you don’t know me.  I’m just thanking one of my four sisters for Georging me at Christmas.  To the other three…he’s on his way.  What?  Did you think I was selfish?  Puhleease!

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