For some reason, when my brother was little we all called him Bubba. Chris is not a particularly difficult name to say, but we called him Bubba. My cousin, Casey, still calls him Bubba, and she's probably the only one who can still get away with it.
Chris and I are 14 months apart. I'm not sure there are two people closer in age but more unalike as people. Variety is the spice of life, but in our case, it was a recipe for disaster. We had knock down, drag out fights as children. I gave him a black eye with a piece of cardboard once. He put me in an eye patch for a solid week.
But as we've gotten older, we've become closer friends. We still couldn't be more different, but we know how to manage our differences a little better these days.
Chris went into the emergency room yesterday complaining of head pain. Having migraines his entire life, we all knew to take his complaint seriously. And when you combine that with the fact that we have a history of brain aneurysms on both side of our family's medical history, we were downright worried.
Tests came back good yesterday. They showed no signs of any brain bleeding, and today we're still waiting on the MRI/MRA results which will show any vascular abnormalities, possible aneurysm that hasn't ruptured, or (what we're hoping for most) nothing at all.
So, out of love for my Bubba, here are some pictures and well wishes from his little sister.
This is probably where our disagreements started. I didn't have the verbal ability to tell him not to eat my cake, but I knew it was wrong nonetheless. Chris, the guests aren't even here yet! Put down your fork!!! He's torturing me!
This is one of those rare moments captured on film. A sweet sort-of hug from my brother. Or is he trying to choke me?
Pictured from left to right: Mr. T, Chris, Stephanie. I used to think my brother was pretty awesome, and I guess I wanted to wear everything he did. Umm ... even boy swimsuits, although never in public.
I'm a former journalist turned marketer of concrete. I still type a lot. Other than that, I'm married to an oilman, the owner of a mini-schnauzer named Baxter and a lab named Lacy, chef to anyone with an appetite and a connoisseur of $10 wines.