Last night, while I was in the middle of not concentrating on a movie I’d rented, my sister the elephant trainer called. No, it’s not a wacky metaphor. She’s actually an elephant trainer in San Francisco.
We talked about our parents, psychotic cats and boys.
“Whatever happened with that doctor?”
“Seriously, you’d think that after 30 there’d be a little growing up.”
“You would think. And that’s where you’d be wrong.”
And traffic.
“You’re lucky not to need a car. They’re such a pain.”
“I miss driving. Running over pedestrians just isn’t as fun when you’re doing it on foot.”
“Remember that time you got pulled over…?”
“Shh! No. No I don’t.”
And careers.
“We got a new whale at work last week.”
“Yeah, so? We um, got new stationery.”
“Oh, come on, you know I’d trade my man-hands for a manicure in a heartbeat.”
She does have roughed-up hands, a serious farmer’s tan and some pretty impressive triceps. I’ve got paper cuts, pinched piggy toes and a pretty impressive fear of varicose veins.
Job hazards.
The time difference was noteworthy. She was just getting home from the evening feeding; I was yawning, headed for bed.
“Have fun shoveling shit tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
I went to sleep secure in the knowledge that the shit I’d have to shovel at work would smell a whole lot better.
And that my little sister could totally kick my ass on Survivor.
My sister would totally kick my ass, too.
But she works with hawks, not elephants.
Better to get poked in the eye by a kitten than one of their charges.
now that is one heck of a job description she has…..
my sister and i have the same conversations, except my shit is dealing with kids and faculty and hers is customers and pizza.
I was actually *AT* the finale and the post show party….one survivor felt me up by accident….neener neener phnar…
Dear Fish: Done, and done. Also I just typed your name as “Fist” first. I like that.
I hope my sisters and I are that different when we have jobs.. sure makes for interesting conversation, eh?