Let me begin by saying what a HUMUNGO honor it is to be invited as a guess blogger. I've finally made the D list!!
From
A to Z (Alesch to Zabot), here is the story, albeit disjointed, ruminative and
at times, plain raunchy…and the truth will be told.
We
begin with the trip from Boston with yours truly TRULY and Molly (aka, Smalls
Balls, Minnie Mouse, etc.). Fine flight with Naomi yapping away, per usual, and
Molly diplomatically not using the “knee-saver”, thereby keeping good relations
with the family in front of us…despite the fact that the child was playing on
his IPAD with the volume turned way up.
All’s
smooth sailing (or flying, as the case may or might be), and into the taxi we
jump. Facetime giggles and nebulous
references to the zany days to come fill me with anticipation, apprehension,
and downright fear. I’d been assigned to keep one particular sister in check
for the entire weekend, and a bigger ball buster I’ve yet to meet. The fear of
god is nothing next to what I was feeling.
Arrival
at the hotel all fine and good and then Little Miss Molly wants a mani-pedi and
breakfast food. The lovely hotelier with owl eyes pointed us in some direction
and off we went. Still smooth, no untoward events taking place. Post mani-pedi
and we’re back at the hotel to meet up with the remaining sisters. I’d never
been in the same room with more than two of the Alesch girls at a time. If I’m
being completely honest here, I almost thought that Molly has only one sister
who was pretending to be a different sister every time I met yet ANOTHER one.
So similar and so different. Yes, dissident indeed.
Over
the next couple of days, more friends came and left and joined in the
festivities – ball games, dining, dancing and of course, a little drinking. I’m
not a woman of few words, so it’s difficult for me to not write pages and pages
about the weekend. I love Jill’s encapsulation, 1-5. I can do no more justice
to the story than say this: to allay my ensuing fear, I repeated Jill’s mantra
to myself often“sack the f-k up , Naomi”, and closing my eyes, ignored the
cloak of apprehension which veiled me in premonitions of t-shirts with obscene
words and images and of weepy confessions of love, lustful devotion and sublime
admiration.
The
overriding purpose of my blog is to point out the beautiful differences and
similarities between the sisters. The similarities – all of the Alesch
daughters are highly moral individuals, intent on making changes in the world,
however small or large, and always pursuing further educating themselves in
some capacity. Intellectual energy abounds. Compassionate, diplomatic and so
very very kindhearted…though one might think her heart is black as coal, it’s
only a veneer to hide the gold. She’s cynical enough to protect the gold and
expose it only when absolutely necessary. We all know its there.
The
differences. Let’s start with the baby. At times, one would think she is the
eldest. Kristen might have survived on absinthe fumes and 3 hours of sleep per
night recently in her life, but a more level-headed party girl, I’ve yet to
meet. A cutie pie who will make out with a guy to win a bet, wear overalls in
the big city just because her sister asked her to, and snores louder than yo’
momma does, Kristen is the epitome of sensibility and kindness wearing the
guise of morning-after, eye-liner smeared slut.
Anne.
Anne is the wanderer. With a penchant for sleeping until noon if the blinds are
pulled, and meandering up foreign staircases to look for good napping spots,
Anne knows how to wander off no matter where you put her…baseball game, church,
dueling piano bar. This lovely lady, besides being a two-fer acting as marrying
minister AND sister to the bride, is the embodiment both intellectual and
physical curiosity. In a perfectly rational and unpredictably exciting way.
Though
Molly ought to be next, since she is my absolute favorite, I’ll wax poetic at
the end. And on and on and on….
NEXT:
JILL….omigod. Terrified of Jill. Californication. Marcy Runkle. Need I say
more? For anyone who has never watched the show, check it out. Marcy Runkle in
terms of presentation only. No other aspects of Marcy’s life are Jill. Jill, I
hope, takes this as the highest of compliments. I wish I had a lifeline to
Jillification. Whenever I’m feeling unsure or defeated in some way, all I would
have to do is pick up my lifeline and hear Jill’s beatific vocal chords singing
to me : SACK THE FUCK UP, NAOMI! Jill is the harbinger of all that is good and
pure and smart smart smart funny channeled through the most caustically
vulnerable limited edition 99% man outside of Hayseed land. Jill has the
virility and desire to entertain the guys at a bachelor party using only her
wit and anatomically bizarre fashion sense. Suffice it to say, as the most
vocal of the group, much can be written about Jill, but we’ll save it for the
post –wedding guest blog.
Amy.
Ah, Amy. The lovely Amy. Amy who manages to sneak Italian pastries into a
Bruins game…with the security guard’s permission, a nip into the ball game with
nobody’s permission, and is ready to beat up anybody who questions Jill’s
99%ism. Amy is the calm before the storm that is the Alesch ladies. Amy is a
high roller with the look of a low-baller. Amy is the mosquito who bites the
victim while the male mosquito buzzes and distracts and eventually meets its
demise. And I mean mosquito in the sexiest sense of the word.
And
so we’ve come full circle, and back to the middle again, to introspect on my
Molly my love. Molly is the perfect girl. She’s beautiful and smart. Kind and
genuine. Funny. Quiet when appropriate. And loud….so loud when appropriate.
Judgmental when necessary, diplomatic and pro-active, she powers through it all
and is always a ray of sunshine. Molly is a zelig…she fits in no matter where
she is. Amongst the bachelorette princesses in their little gowns and tiaras,
Molly shone like a star, with her completely shredded jeans and t-shirt,
dancing with her sisters. One of whom appeared to have morphed into Rambo. The
other of whom was either professing her love to someone or threatening to fight
anyone who would insult another sister’s honor.
Love
Love Love. Lots and lots of laughter. That’s what the weekend in Chicago was. A
celebration of the richness of the bonds between the Alesch women and those of
us who are lucky enough to have forged separate bonds with them individually. Every
day I am grateful for the 86,400 I have to spend in any way I wish. I choose
Alesch.
