reasons why sisterhood is epic

Dear Reader,
I don't know if you're 100% sure of what you've gotten yourself into here. Ya know, reading this blog. Well, I'm just gonna lay it out for you guys, clear and simple. This is gonna be ridiculous! Like, so ridiculous, you'll wonder if we're addicted to drugs or something, which we're not, just to set that record straight. I mean, you should probably think twice before you read anything from our web-site or blog because you will most likely be offended. Oh, and if you make the fact that you're offended vocal on any level, we will most likely make fun of you? We're sick people, we know.


So, remember that time I wrote that one blog and everyone was like, "Sweet, they're gonna update pretty regularly?" And then, I pretty much didn't blog for weeks? Yeah, sorry about that reader. I'm just gonna say it, MY BAD!


The whole purpose of this blog and site are to share some stories with you guys. I'm not just gonna leave you guys hanging, no worries. I'm here to tell you stories right now, right? Just, be warned from that little message about ridiculous levels rising I mentioned earlier. I'm kind of brutally honest. I don't have much to hide and I'm not afraid to tell it like it is. So, clench your teeth and tell me it's not socially okay to say the things I will tell you. But please, don't bother filing any complaints. Life is life, we better just get over it now and keep reading.


Growing up with Libby? You guys want to know about what it was like growing up with Lib? We'll start there. Okay, so, I am the third child out of five of us. Libby and I have an older brother named Ernie who we probably won't talk about much here because, well, he's just not cool like us. Ernie is 10 years older than me and Libby is 8 years older. When we were kids, Lib and I shared a bedroom. We had a bunk bed and I totally had the top bunk. I know, this are some seriously juicy details about our life. I hope you guys gossip about this stuff on a regular basis. (In case you're not paying attention closely enough, that was definitely sarcasm.)


Because we shared a room, we had to spend a LOT of time together. But, Libby was a really temperamental kid so, my parents went all psychoanalytical on her and asked a therapist or something and the therapist said that, for Libby's sake, she needed her own space. We only had 3 bedrooms in the house. Libby had our room, with the exception of the top bunk) and I kept all my stuff scattered around the house. I kept my toys in the living room and my shoe basket in mom & dad's room, and I had a designated spot in the dresser for my clothes.


I remember, when I was younger, I was really jealous that my sister got to stay up later than me. I mean, it's only natural that she got to. She was way older than me. At that age, I didn't know any better though. So, she'd watch this show, I think it was called Allie McBeal or something, whenever it was on and I'd pretend I was sleeping until mom walked past our door to go to bed. And then, all subtle and ninja-like, I'd creep down to the bottom end of the top bunk of the bunk bed and watch the show with her. I'm sure she heard me and knew I was awake. I think she even tattled on me a few times, but I loved the thrill of it all. I mean, I was staying up late with my sister and that was totally awesome, right?


Except now we're adults and things have changed. We still share a house, but now we both pay rent. Instead of bunk beds, we have our own rooms. We still get into each others' clothes regularly but that's irrelevant. Instead of sneaking to watch her tv shows now though, we have more exciting ways to spend our time. Now days, our sister moments are more worth it and less stupid.


In the past few months, we've found ourselves going on little adventures. We moved in together because my sister split up with her husband and she got a place with me. So, for a few months there, things were seriously emotional. I mean, they're still emotional, but less borderline tantrum-esque, ya know? Lib and I would both just want to get out of the house and be somewhere that wasn't home. You know that feeling? The one where you feel entirely trapped inside your own head and just want to be free but you can't ever escape yourself? We both hit that point for different reasons over the summer and it was interesting.


We'd go for these late night drives to anywhere we wanted to go. It usually involved the ocean or going up in the hills to see the stars at the top. My sister drives this crappy old Volkeswagon Bug that has a giant magnetic band-aid on the side and no stereo or radio or anything in it. So, I'd grab my laptop and we'd blast music from it and just talk and drive and go. We'd roll down the windows and let the air in and feel that perfect mix of cold and warm mixing together. And we'd get to our destination, no where, and we'd stop for a minute and just see whatever we could see.


Once, it was out to the ocean and we wanted to see the meteor shower. We had just driven a couple other places to see if we could see anything, but there was fog in the way. So, we were going up, up, up until the fog would no longer be a problem. We were by these cliffs at the ocean around 1 in the morning staring down at this huge sea of fog and laughing about nothing at all just because we could. And the memories still stick in my mind in ways I can hardly describe. So, I ramble and desperately attempt to do them justice. In all honesty, I can't do them justice. I'm a writer and I can't write about those moments because they were just so much. Not even much in the sense that a load of events occurred, but much in that there were so many emotions crashing and colliding at once. We were angry at the world together, we were depressed and anxious and silly and insane and wild and us. We were both just, entirely us. There was nothing there to say, "Society doesn't want you to say that." or any prying eyes and cruel glares to intercept our own personal lives. We were us and everything was okay, perfect even, for just a few stray moments of time caught up in the universe.


That night, we almost hit a deer on the road and it scared the shit out of me. I mean, our cousin had died in a car accident after his friend hit an animal in the road. You can see where that would hit home. We sat there eating sour candy that made us both giggle as our cheeks burned with the taste. We listened to all different types of music that we both loved. She drove fast, even though she's not supposed to. And we saw this gate out in the middle of no where along the coast. It was the most random thing we'd seen all night so, as I've done with so many random inanimate objects in the past, we named it! We named it Bruce Ericson the gay gate because it seemed funny at the time. And we talked about the stupidest things. She told me about all the parties she'd gone to up in the hills out in Caz and everywhere along the way and I told her about how the extent of my high school partying scene was watching scary movies with my friends and playing some seriously kickass games of Apples-to-Apples. And even though it felt like we were talking about nothing, we were talking about the things that mattered at the time. Some of it was about remembering the past, some of it was about looking forward to the future, and the rest of it was us both complaining about what ass-holes guys are.


My sister tells me waaayyyy too much about her sex life. She gives me the kind of gory details no sister should ever have to hear about. Anyway, one night, she was going on and on and I was going a little bit insane, probably from mental and emotional scarring, and we were both restless and decided to walk down to the river near our house. We knew our neighbors across the street weren't home but that they'd said we could use their beach access before, so we went through their yard with a lantern and our jackets and wandered down the rocky beach beside the river. We didn't think of what to do when we got there so, we just started throwing rocks in. Next thing I know, we're both screaming at the top of our lungs about things we're angry about. You know, yelling to God kind of screaming. yelling up into that massive sky lit up with stars and randomly scattered clouds of fluffy fury and this huge moon that made the lantern unnecessary. And she was shouting, "I HATE MY EX-HUSBAND!" And I was shouting, "I HATE MY EX-BOYFRIEND!" And she shouted, "I HATE THAT THIS GUY'S AN ASSHOLE!" And I'd yell, "I HATE THAT MY SISTER HAS TO TELL ME EVERY GORY DETAIL OF HER SEX LIFE!" And we both genuinely questioned our sanity that night. One the other side of the river is a busy road way and I'm sure everyone in our neighborhood as well as several strangers walking and driving by heard us that night. But none of it mattered because we got all our anger and insanity out of our system and we had created another moment that would be worth remembering.


I guess, the point of this blog is, sisterhood is epic. It's epic in ways that make the word epic suddenly have meaning and make sense outside the context of a lame joke. Sisterhood is not caring what you say to the other sister because you know she's your sister and will always be there for you. sisterhood is about cheesy morals to the stories inside the blog. Sisterhood is about screaming to the heavens on the beach in the middle of the night and chasing a meteor shower above the fog only to meet Bruce Ericson the gay gate. Sisterhood is something we have got down to an art form. What are your stories about sisterhood? Go ahead and tell me cause I would genuinely love to hear them.
Sincerely yours,
Tippy

the beautiful beginning

Hey guys, my name is Tippy. Nice to meet you too, I know. So, my older sister, Libby, and I have been talking about doing this whole site thing for a while. At first, it started out as us joking around. See, I'm an author, so I've been video blogging for a while for promotional and personal purposes. In other words, I'm a geek and think it's fun to vlog. Once, we decided to do a video together. Since then, Ish has been forming in the back of our minds. I know what you're thinking, what exactly is "Ish"? Well, you know when you're kind of hungy... ish? Or maybe a little bit dramatic-ish? How about tired-ish? Silly-ish? Us-ish? It's not really a word, yet it sums up the way most of us feel most of the time. I'm not really anything today, I'm just, well, ish. So, feel free to start acting a bit more Libby & Tippy-ish should you feel the desire.

Who are we? We're sisters. We grew up together playing Barbies and screaming at each other because we shared a bedroom. We never figured that we'd hit our adult lives and end up living together again, yet, here we are. We've got an 8-year age gap between us, but we're like best friends. Living together has given us a load of stories and funny ideas and memories that are more than worth documenting. So, Ish becomes our outlet. It's a chance to hear a story, a chance to laugh with us. Ish is where we can post all our silly photos and document adventures and post up video blogs. We plan to have sections for recipes and who knows what else. The sky's the limit, right? Nah, we don't have limits at all. There are no boundaries in the land of Ish! Pfft, the land of ish, that makes us sound like we live in some mildly demented fairy tale. Then again, maybe we do. I hope you all have fun watching our world zip by. Don't miss a moment.

-Tippy