Cardboard Boxes and Sisterhood

I just spent a 4-day weekend in Utah with my sister, Bonnie. We had a great time doing everything from hiking...

to mall loitering...

to caving...

 

to wandering aimlessly on a sunny day in her old neighborhood  park... 

Whenever we hang out, I'm always surprised how many people ask us if we're twins. (One guy asked us if we were "open-minded twins." I think I may or may not have understood what he meant by that.)

Whenever we're together, I'm also reminded that growing up with her as my sister it's amazing I survived to adulthood. So many of the very best bad ideas have involved her. Case in point, she pushed me off the roof twice while we were growing up, both times in a cardboard box.* 

#Once.  Our parents had just bought a new water heater, and that gigantic cardboard box practically begged to be played in. "We" decided it would make good practice for someday when we would become famous by going off Niagara Falls in a barrel.

 

#Twice. Our neighbors had just bought a new washing machine. Bonnie and I pooled our brain power as budding engineers and made an airplane cobbled together from the washer box, an old bicycle chain & handlebars, and a box of Cookie Crisp cereal (the trans-continental in-flight meal). "We" decided I could be the solo test pilot for its maiden flight.

Thanks for the great memories and the excellent cardboard-box-free weekend.

I love you, Bon!

*The issue of why we were allowed to play on our roof is a whole other blog post... maybe even a book.