So you Say your Not a Blogger?

My sister Nina has an amazing sense of humor. She's just one of those people. She takes everyday situations and makes basic observations from them, but with a comic twist. Out of the blue she can come up with something, so random, yet so easy to relate to you can't help but think, "What?!" and then laugh till your sides hurt. Below is a great example. It showed up in my in-box about 8 o'clock last night:

"Subject: I hate Packing Peanuts...

I don't keep a diary and I'm not a "blogger", but my hatred for packing peanuts runs so deeply that I felt compelled to put it into words.
You place an order online. Something you've really been wanting. A couple of days later you receive the "your order has been shipped" e-mail. Anxiously, you wait, checking the mail several times a day. Finally, after about a week or so (if you didn't pay for the fancy pants 2 day delivery) it arrives. You rush it inside. You tear open the box, but, alas...F***ING PACKING PEANUTS! Somewhere in that box the size of Texas is your prize. Your arm has just enough mass to make the packing peanuts flow out of the box. A situation you are always careful to avoid but somehow know it's going to happen anyway, adding to the excitement.
They begin to stick to you like static. "Damn it. Why won't you come off?". The more you fight, the more they stick. At last, while sifting through a sea of thousands of packing peanuts, you
feel your order item. As you pull it up and out, more packing peanuts spill out. It's as if they were being held captive and the prison doors have been sprung open. All joy of your purchase is lost as you look beyond it to see the puddles of packing peanuts coating your floor. Then there's the gigantic box full, which you will more than likely try to empty into an oversized trash bag. You have high hopes, but again, all hope is shattered as several of the pesky packing peanuts refuse to die. As you're picking up the spilled peanuts you grow increasingly frustrated by "the clingers". You find yourself screaming obscenities at them like "Damn you. Get off me!" and "You little shits". The vacuum will finish off the rest of the survivors. Then it's off to the the land fill. After a moment of rest the thought enters your mind, 'Whoever invented packing peanuts is a blithering idiot. I'd like to kick the crap out him.'"

Yup, that's my little sister.

Nina, with her husband Nathan, and two beautiful girls Ashton and Alissa