tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12596260.post-5114547749526350012008-07-23T05:37:00.001-04:002008-07-23T05:37:00.701-04:00<b>My sister Leslie sent me <a href="http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/index.php?cl=7933419" target=_new>this video</a>, with a note: "Who does this remind you of ???" well, her, of course. She was near-legendary for her multiple sneezes; after she hit five, everyone count aloud: "Six. Seven. Eight." It was usually 7 or 8, virtually every time.<br /><br />Since my sister seems to have a sense of humor about herself, I thought I'd share this story about our childhood. She and I got along famously well, oh 98% of the time. We sang together, confided n one another, etc. I'm only sixteen and a half months older.<br /><br />But that other 2% was always the same: I wanted to be left along and she would goad me into finally chasing her away. One time, I was probably 10 and she was 9, and I just wanted to read, but she'd hit and poke me repeatedly, Finally, I chased after her. She was wearing a bathrobe, and I stepped on the back of it. She went straight down to the ground and chipped one of her upper front teeth. She cried; I was mortified. Oddly, I don't recall getting punished for this, perhaps because my explanation of my sister's M.O. was plausible. Anyway, for about the next two years, she had a silver tooth in her mouth. The good thing: she hardly bothered me at all during that time.<br /><br />Happy birthday, Leslie. </b><br />ROG<div class="blogger-post-footer">ROG</div>Roger Owen Greenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05298172138307632062rogerogreen@gmail.com0