That doesn't count!

So far, the majority of this blog has been dedicated to me whining.  Shocker, right?  Well, lately, since the MIL is well into her third month at the BIL's house, I haven't had anything to whine about.  And since we haven't really (really) started on the house, I don't have that to talk about either.  

So, I will revert to my trusted stand-by. 

My crazy family.

I grew up in a small town.  A town looked down on by the rest of the state, a state which is usually the butt of all other states jokes.  The state that always gets picked last for any sport.  (And I mean that in a memories of high school joke kind of way, not that the state actually comes in last for sports, which it kind of does...)  So, small town.  Well, as with any small town, there are things you love and things you hate.  Personally, I am to the point of lying about where I grew up (notice I have never EVER mentioned it here?) mostly because of how embarrassing it is.  Well, I moved away, went to college, got two degrees, got married, bought a house and some dogs.  All the normal stuff people do.  During all of this, I had one goal in mind: to never return to un-named small town. 

My sister, was not so lucky.  She got away, but as they say, 'you can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the girl.'  She joined me at college, where she completed one semester.  During which, she ran off and got married (while living with me), ended up pregnant, and dropped out of school.  

While I was working on my MBA, she decided to work on turning her body into a canvas, painting it with a variety of subjects and lots of colors.  

While I was getting married in Jamaica, she was deciding that she didn't want to be married to her husband anymore.

They separated and she began seeing someone else earlier this year.  They got engaged.  They also go pregnant.  (The baby was lost) and they broke up.  She bought a dress and was planning a wedding.

Friday of last week, about a month and a half after breaking up with they guy, we have this conversation via text:

Her: Can you make me a wedding cake?

Me:  Sure.  When?

Her: The 24th

Me: Of sept?

Her: yes.

Hmmm.  I call her.  Who are you marrying?  The answer?  Her ex-husband.  OK, not a complete surprise, she told me they were seeing each other the week before.  

Which leads me to ask her, last year, when you guys got divorced, did you really get divorced?  (I ask because I never got a definitive answer when they talked about it.  She borrowed money to have the divorce, but never did the, "I'm divorced!" thing.

No, they never actually got divorced.  Then how were you going to marry someone else?!?!?!

It was just easier to say they were divorced than actually do it.  Um, OK.  My sister is a lot of talk and no action.  So, next week, she will be "renewing her vows" to her husband on their 6th anniversary.  Which, I am dying to point out that 'anniversary' is about how long you have been together, and since they have been broken up but legally married that it doesn't actually count...

But, I know my sister.  She would change a game mid-way through and declare herself the winner, while I would stand by screaming, "That doesn't count!"  

She didn't listen then, and I'm sure she won't now.  So all I can do is stand by, watch, and make her a cake.