The Third Day of Thanksgiving, Part 2

And now the James brother.

James has always been very good to me, starting when I was a baby and he sang me songs in the car to keep me from squawking. When I was a little girl and scared to go upstairs by myself (terrible creatures lived in my bedroom when no one was up there, even during the day, waiting to attack and drag me away), my brother armed me with blocks to defend myself. Apparently terrible creatures are no match for small, red, wooden blocks.

One day in high school, my brother came upon me walking down the hall between classes. He threw his arm around me and started singing a song that he made up on the spot. I don't remember the whole thing, but this is the end:

This is my sister and she wears glasses
So don't you boys be makin' passes
'Cause I'm her brother and I'm real big
And I'll hunt you down like a stinkin' pig.

Catchy, yes? My brother is FUNNY.

There's a post card on my refrigerator that my brother sent me YEARS ago. Partly it's on my refrigerator because it's a print of a cool pen and ink drawing of "The Temptation of Saint Anthony" from the 1600s, and partly it's on the refrigerator because my brother sent it to me when I was having a terrible year, and it reminds me that I have a really excellent family that takes care of me and sends me post cards when I'm feeling blue.

James and my sister-in-law are both super nice. If they lived in Utah, my position as favored aunt would be in serious jeopardy. The main things I have going for me now are proximity and the fact that my sister's kids can't differentiate between a present I give them myself and a present I deliver from my mom. At family gatherings, my brother and sister-in-law are still having sincere conversations with marmots and playing games long after I've tucked myself away in a corner with a book. Because they're nice.

So, I'm grateful for my whole family. And I'm feeling better today, so I'll save the rest of my thanksgiving for the actual holiday.