Noise Joyfully: sister-wives

There are sisters, and there are sistas.

This post is about the latter. The women in my life who complete me, and who are my closest companions. The ones who understand what makes me tick, and who love me anyway when they don't. These are the women whom share my family and my cooking (which is saying something); who parent my children and who don't mind me parenting theirs. These are the women I want to grow old with, laugh with, cry with, breathe in life with.

I had the privilege of spending two weekends IN A ROW with these amazing people.

The first weekend was near Ojo Caliente, NM, in a little VRBO house that must be the spiritual epicenter of the universe. The sense of peace and eternity was amazing. It was balm for the soul to just sit and soak in the timelessness of that place.

We spent a lot of time talking, eating good food, and spent time in both Santa Fe and Taos. If you have never been there, go. Both places are beautiful, especially with the Native history and influence in the area. Plus, the artwork, architecture and jewelry are second-to-none.

This peace was good preparation for the following weekend. My sister-sista and I drove to KS with our combined five kids to visit our cousin-sista and her three. We visited a farm where our grandad grew up and is still owned by Mom's cousin; we played and went swimming and ate freeze-pops and had movie night outside on the lawn. We managed a few minutes of adult conversation spread over two days. We really did look like sister-wives with our eight children all blended together like the Sneetches after their stars got all mixed up:

". . . . Until neither the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew, whether this one was that one . . . or that one was this one . . . or which one what what one . . . or what one was who."