My baby brother.
He's getting married.
Sorry if I keep repeating myself but my baby brother is GETTING MARRIED!!!
Boyd wears Cartman T shirts. And he's not a big fan of grooming his facial hair. And he tends to leave dead animals soaking in salt water in your sink. And he found a girl who not only puts up with all this, she actually is pretty crazy about him. I know how much he loves her but because I can see how much she loves him I love her.
|The only thing I wish was that she were a bit shorter. Actually if we're wishing for things, I wanna be taller. Either way I'm still the shortest in the family. Well except for Peanut and Bubbo - for now.|
Boyd and I didn't have the easiest childhood. Our parents divorced when I was 5 and he was just a baby. Between them and their subsequent spouses we've lived all over central and eastern Kentucky. Sometimes it seems to me that we moved around more than Army brats. But no matter where we moved or who we were living with at the time Boyd and I always were together.
Yes, there's five years between us. And yes, there were fights. Plenty of fights! Lots of decapitated Barbie dolls and thrown-away Ninja Turtles - you know, the usual stuff.
I think though that because of all the moves, and all the different families and step-families, and split-up holidays, we maybe looked to each other a bit more than other siblings. Every holiday, every family emergency, every disorganized vacation, Boyd was there.
Even after The Captain and I got married, Boyd was at our house as often as not. We're kind of like the Appalachian Ross and Monica. Except instead of dinosaurs that I don't understand it's computer stuff that I don't understand. And instead of used to be fat it's more like used to be thin.
So now (sticking with this metaphor) Boyd has found his Rachel, who forever hereafter will be known here on the interwebz as Ginger. And because I love Boyd and Ginger, and love them even more together, you can find me on Saturday in a dress; which in and of itself is quite lovely but which on me resembles nothing so much as a parade float. But I was promised Bourbon. And cake. So you know. . . Cake. And Bourbon.
So here's to Boyd and Ginger! I wish them a long life of fighting over the toilet seat, the remote control, and the temperature on the thermostat. A lifetime of, 'what do you want for supper?', 'I don't care.', 'How about XYZ?', 'Ugh, no!'. A lifetime of having someone to put your cold feet on in the bed. And a lifetime of knowing that you wouldn't ever want anything else. Congratulations guys! I love you both!