At least, that's what Mike called Tara today. But that's not the real title for today's post, I just thought it was funny. The real title is:
Hugs From Tara
My sister is a funny person to hug. She's not that into physical affection. And so, being the youngest, annoyingest sibling, much of my life, I have enjoyed trying to hug her, hold her hand, put my hand on her thigh, while she, squirming but smiling, would hiss through gritted teeth, "Stop it!"
You can see it in that picture. Do you see the fist? Her very beautiful face is yet tensed, and I know what she's thinking, "I'll smile for the camera, but please get off of me...Now."
Let the record state that Tara is a much nicer, kinder, gentler, more sympathetic, more generous person than me. She teaches 8-year-olds and kisses puppies and frolics through fields of daises. But she still isn't that into my PDAs. It's the funny hard edge to all her softness.
Here's what it's like: You go in for a hug, and two pincer-like hands will press into your back, quite violently, pressing her sharp collar bones into you, perfunctorily, and then one nano second later, it's over. No surface area of your body will touch other than bony collar bones and sharp pincers. Don't try for more. The pincers will pinch. I once knew a guy who had his eyes put out while leaning in for a longer hug.
There's no point to this blog really; I just like talking about Tara, on of my top two favorite sisters. This could be part one in a long expose on my family's hugging habits, which Mike has actually written a thesis on.