"On Top of Old Smokey"

An old and overdone song, especially when you throw in the 'On Top of Spaghetti' version. I'm not sure whether to be proud or ashamed that my brother thought to call me to find out all the verses to the latter. I knew them. I do like the piano accompaniment here, it's a bit different, more serious sounding. Maybe it also helps to sing all the 'serious' verses.

My sister commented over the weekend about my 'smell', and she meant it in a good way. She's attuned to the smells of things, perhaps more than I am, which feels significant, since I am very conscious of my own higher-than-normal sensuality. She said that the smell of Home Depot reminds her of my dad, also. She and my brother brought up my own fondness for patchouli: by the way, from this point on I'm going to fully own up to that, and embrace it wholeheartedly. Hippie image be damned.

My sister is fifteen years younger than I am. There are less years between me and my mom's youngest sister (twelve) and also between my sister and my nephew (ten). Considering this, I'm glad to feel that I know her as well as I do, but she still surprises me all the time, and I wish I knew her better. It's very odd to have a sibling, and my only sister, in an entirely different generation than I am. We share none of the same growing-up television shows, or toys. To compound the matter, we look nothing alike. She's the adorable one, and that's not just her relative age. I feel old and decidedly un-cool around her, but I think that's just my lot in life at this point, my job as the big sister. Maybe she'll let some of her hipness rub off on me, if I'm very lucky. I promise not to think again that you'd ever wear Sketchers, dear, though I'm not getting rid of my own. I have to keep my image up (not cool? not a hippie? chick wearing black?).