Conversations with my brother

Adam and Liam.

Adam and Liam, circa 2006 ish

Adam has been staying with my brother, Liam, and his wife, Kate, in Edmonton until we join him. Liam has had an intense (and recipriocal) bromance goin’ on with Adam since the first day they met.

This was a conversation I had with Liam the other day. I’m so glad we can bond over our mutual love/bewilderment of my husband.

Me: So, I have booked our moving truck, our flights, etc. but we still haven’t found a rental so we have no idea where we are going TO…Yikes. It will all work out….?

Liam: Yeah. We also have a basement, and you know Adam won’t have packed anything yet so you’ll be coming to our house regardless to pack up his stuff.

Me: Ha. whatever do you MEAN

Liam: He’s been nesting in there for three months now almost. Who knows what’s behind that door. He might be pregnant. Last night he put on my 3/4 length coat and then built a nest on the futon and crawled into it, coat and all. And stayed there.

Me:Whaaa? He does like nesting. He used to make nests in the U of L library all the time. I don’t know even what he was doing in there because he doesn’t know how to read.

Liam: Hahaha. Anyhow. It’s possible he’s woven the bed, his blanket, his dirty laundry and some of the furniture into one cohesive unit that will need to be purified with fire. Or carefully disassembled.

Me: You should really consider just drywalling over that room and pretending it never existed.


My erstwhile brother has sold his house. 

With this news, plus Hilary swanning around Costa Rica, and Adam and I still waiting on a house (and job, and car, and REAL LIFE ghsmshakdnfnehsnfuck), exactly 3/6 – that’s 50% – of my siblings are homeless.  

My siblings and I: blowing parental expectations out of the water since 1980. 

The First Born

As you read this, I am sunning myself on the deck of a floating cabin. Perhaps I have a cold drink in my hand, or WAIT, even better, a gigantic bowl of ice cold berries. Maybe I am reclined on a chaise, listening to a silence broken only by the lake gently lapping at the shore

Orrrrr maybe Adam and I are slowly tearing each other limb from limb as the reality of being alone, with only each other and a dwindling food supply for TEN DAYS is slowly sinking in. Whose idea was this? (Mine! Oh dear god it was mine!)

Anyway. Regardless of which situation is unfolding at the present moment, I have thoughtfully pre-written several posts to roll out in my absence. Because Internets, I’m a giver. Never forget that. I’ll be back on the 18th.



                                       Photo by Brent Calis Photography

In one of my weekly update posts I moaned about how none of my bras fit anymore, and how I am too cheap and/or lazy to replace them with something that actually fits.

You know, like a normal person.

Anyway, a lovely reader responded (Oh I do so love it when you do that!) and she suggested I buy a particular brand of nursing bra that can be found at Target.

And then I silently wept into my hands for a good twenty minutes because I AM A CANADIAN, eh? We don’t have Target! (except that my sister-in-law tells me they just got one in Edmonton! But that just made me more sad because I DON’T LIVE IN EDMONTON) 

Anyway, after the weeping ceased I kind of forgot about the whole thing and just kept doin’ my thing, cramming myself into my old bras and wearing higher and higher-necked shirts in an attempt to avoid some sort of Janet Jackson-type situation happening.

And then an email from my older brother, the handsome fellow you see at the top of the post. The email read as follows:

So, weird email for the day. I am in Texas for the next 10 days if you need that Target maternity bra.


And THIS, my friends, is how you can spot a guy who’s grown up with no less than five sisters. A man who is so nonplussed by tampons and floral fascinators and, yes, apparently even maternity undergarments, that he voluntarily offers to spend time in the lingerie section of a Target store in Texas to search for a special nursing bra for his younger sister.

Liam, you are the shit.