I Choose Alesch

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.