Wednesday. The Middle.

 

I'm not a person who really likes Wednesdays. I shouldn't say I don't like them -it's just...I do but it's just so in the middle. Like me, in the middle. 

I have an older sister, Connie-who could throw a punch like no other growing up. I'll make it clear and put it out there that we really weren't into cage fighting and she didn't want to become a woman boxer.  But, being three years older she still tipped the scales in the muscle department. Pretty sure she still can land a good punch. Ugh I used to hate it when her fist would connect to my arm. It really didn't happen to often but boy, it hurt. I tried to be scrappy but it really didn't work in my favor. Hardly ever, if at all. I always wanted to throw a punch like her. Love you, Connie.
Then there is me, in the middle.
My other sister,  DeAnn is five years younger. Now, being the five years age difference the two of us didn't really go all ninja on each other. We definitely had our bouts but her punches didn't hurt like you know who. So it kind of felt good being the older one to little De. Little DeAnn. The youngest of the three Becker girls. One day DeAnn and I were sitting on the too small and narrow steps going upstairs in our one hundred year old farmhouse. The same house where we had to have the peas on the "bottom" of the dinner plate at the kitchen table because the floor slanted. If they weren't, they would be by the time you put the plate down. And I hate it when my food touches. Anyway, there we were just the two of us in that narrow hallway sitting on those small steps. Couldn't sit on one of those steps if you flat laid out a crisp $100 bill and dared me. Ate too much cake today. Ok, we were just sitting there talking and I remember looking at the cute little tan line across her nose probably caused from squinting in the sun. Oh this is just terrible what I told her. You should stop reading if you have a weak stomach or are eating. Really, stop.  I told her that her name was really Linda and that the imaginary Linda cut her head (yes, off) where that line was on her nose and  now she was Linda and that we had to start calling her by that name. Apparently this was pretty upsetting to the youngest of the Becker girls and she started crying and I quickly calmed her down and apologized with all of my middle-sister-heart out. She had to look in the mirror and somehow I brought her back to the realization that it never happened and her name was DeAnn. And she had a line across her nose because of the sun. She was not Linda. I wonder if she ever told Mom. Love you, DeAnn.

I love my sisters. They have given me so much love and support and have been great Aunts to my kiddos and now my grandchildren. I love my sisters as they have helped me more than they will ever know going through this stupid dumb breast cancer. I should rephrase that- they have helped me immensely. I wish I would have known growing up what I know now. To always maintain that sibling connection where ever you are in your life. Good times or bad times. They are family. My sisters. The only sisters I have. I love you Connie and DeAnn.

Going back to the Wednesday thing. Middle of the week. Hump day. Middle of the road. Just there. Wednesday. Not as exciting as Thursday. But it's still a good day.

 Once again, I am off track. I wanted to share my chocolate cake recipe with you and the story behind it. In time.

My Grandma Becker's entry from this date in 1990:

April 10, 1990
"Cloudy, breezy and cooler.
Baked cookies. Gerald to Waverly at 10:50-Did a bit of ironing and mending. Talked to Dorothy. Gerald home at 5:45. Rice and blue berry muffins for supper. 
Wrote to Anne and a note to Madison." 


~It's a great day to be alive-make it a great day~
xoxo
Melody