There are a number of factors that have contributed to me sitting down and writing this blog, and I wish to recount several of them.

The first and primary one is the hilariously satisfying story my sister Becca shared with me while she, Megan, and I were talking obnoxiously loudly on Winnipeg Transit accompanied by, of all things, a wheelchair, recently.

The second has been Becca's recent cries of "foul" that Megan got her own blog and a timely birthday call (as opposed to a 30 seconds long, 4 day late, truncated call which, apparently, doesn't cut it!) Now ask me this: Do I play favorites with my siblings? Do I love one more than the other? Why, of course not, silly! So as a good sister, Becca, this one's for you.

Most of you have read my rantings from awhile back over the less-than-satisfying title my article on homosexuality recieved in the Living Hope Church Newsletter; if anyone knows the story it's Becca. Besides the fact that I think she's the only one who reads this thing religiously, (possibly the only one who reads it at all), I distinctly recall commiserating with her about it over the phone at the time.

So who's to blame when she herself makes that very same rookie mistake? Not I, I have washed my hands of it! My conscience is in the clear, which leaves my less-than-sympathetic side to laugh (mwahaha!) at the incredible irony of it all.

Here's how it went down:

Rebecca, my overworked, underpaid, poorer-yet-richer-than-me sister, who recently graduated from the University of Regina with her Social Work degree, has this year done the unthinkable; MOVED HOME! I, having just recently escaped such a situation, find this in and of itself humorous; that is, until I compare our bank accounts. Then I am silenced.

So living at home now affords Rebecca the opportunity to get ridiculously rich (just kidding, climb out of debt at a ridiculously fast rate?) since she pays no rent and has THREE jobs! To make matters worse, they're three jobs that I am somewhat threatened by (we're all about sister envy in our family... and, apparently, airing dirty laundry).

For one, she's doing some special needs home care for a family in Russell, which is actually cool with me because she's incredibly great with people, but somewhat annoying as it's my old job and besides the fact that she's probably better at it than me (isn't she always?), she's making money while I am... not.

Her second job is really the more irritating one, as she is substitute teaching at Major Pratt, while both Megan and I toil away at our B.Ed's. I mean, where's the delayed gratification they're dangling above my head if any random hack or sibling can just walk in and command a classroom? Once again, I'm sure she's incredibly good at that too, but I had somewhere in my mind counted on at the very least having teaching as the one thing my older sister wouldn't be able to "been there, done that" me over in the future while she offers me those ever-so-irritating words of wisdom (read: beating me over the head with the obvious).

Her third job is as some sort of computer education co-ordinator for the community. That one makes the least sense to me at all, but I tend to underestimate Becca's tech skills so I really have no idea what's going on there. And it is this third job which has offered me such great personal entertainment in recent weeks, or specifically, an incident that occurred around it.

As the Community Access Co-ordinator or whatever the heck she is, Becca facilitates basic computing courses. But these courses are no good if the fair citizens of Russell are unaware of their goings-on. So, Becca did what any good Russellite would do- turned to mainstream media! Becca wrote an article for the Russell Banner outlining her job, her program, and her classes, and both cleverly snuck around the unappealing prospect of paying for advertising and gave Terrie Welwood the unexpected treat of having to write one less than her usual frenzied weekly quota of news articles for the Banner (those things don't write themselves, you know)!

However, upon completing her opus, my dear sister was struck with the ever-difficult question of a headline. And for reasons both unknown and inexcusable to me, she decided, "What the heck! Let Terrie come up with a title!" and naively submitted her unnamed masterpiece.

I tell you, I don't think I've EVER laughed so hard on Public Transit as I did that day... especially when Becca sheepishly recounted the line that had swept across the Russell Banner:

"Meet Rebecca Cochrane!"

Alright folks, just in case you're not getting it, this is funny for MANY reasons!

"You mean, besides the fact that this obnoxious title has NOTHING to do with the content of her article?"

Yes, yes I do.

For one, in Russell, everyone knows everyone, and even more so if you're Rebecca, whose location can be verified by all within a 5-mile radius when she laughs, and who is adored by every mother, child, and responsible adult.

However, people lose track, so it's nice to have a bold proclamation in the town paper to remind everyone, "She's Back!! (again?) She's still a Cochrane! (single?!) And she's still doing her part for the community, like always! (awww, shucks!)"

There's nothing like the fanfare that goes with being 23, single, with a Bachelor's degree, and moving back to Russell (it's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there!) to live with your parents.

Which is FAR from the whole picture, and SO far from the heart of it, but, at least for me, that's the mental picture that the tactless line evokes: crazy overcompensation. And that's the trick with headlines- they speak SO loudly. I've never truly appreciated the value that they hold, but since apparently my words have not been heeded by the 4 people that consider this page read-worthy (thanks, mom and dad!) I will say it again:

IF YOU DON'T TITLE YOUR OWN ARTICLES, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO LIKE WHAT YOU FIND IN PRINT! (And you're going to have to listen to me glibly say "I told you so!")

So heed my words of wisdom... too many people (with the last name "Cochrane") have paid for this knowledge with their dignity.

P.S. Happy Belated Birthday Becca?

Those who know me personally know the somewhat volatile relationship I have at times with my little sister; it's the type that can be most accurately described as love/hate. (I should specify that the love vein runs deep and constant, while that pesky hate is really more of an easy irritability that often rears its' ugly head.)

Is anyone with me on how frustrating this sister thing is? (Or sibling relations in general, for the testosterone-endowed among us.) I can fully accept that I'm a basket case in almost all aspects of human life, but there's nowhere I feel my relational inadequacies as acutely as when confronted with a head-to-head with my baby sister. What IS IT that makes it so impossible to find common ground with someone with whom I share my genes, my values, my world-view, my last name, and my past?

We're so different; we're SO alike. Stubborn, independent, fierce, opinionated, loyal, defensive, drop-dead gorgeous (!), and proud.

I'm two years minus 3 weeks older than Megan, and to talk to her you'd never know it. My older sister, she admires; my older sister, she respects. Me, she usurps. It feels like she's made it a goal in life to overtake me! I think the root of my frustrations as an older sister (it's my only chance, you know) is that she's constantly depriving me of my primary right as her elder: adoration.

Did she adore me when we were younger? Hmm... it's really hard to recall; she was too busy chasing me around the kitchen-living room-dining room loop in our house with large blunt objects to really come out and say so; maybe it was there, deep down.

What about in our teenage years? Well, by then I was too busy making a part-time job out of humiliating her with my lightning-fast wit, so once again, opportunity lost.

I do have these small victories, though. However much she hates the thought of it, I do hold some sway in her life. So to console myself I have formed a small mental tally over the years of things that she does that I "did first"; things, of course, I converted her to.

From the bands I told her for years that she would love, to the snowboarding (a work in progress), I like to THINK I am responsible in some small way for her finer moments, her wiser choices. She maintains that it's incredibly frustrating how I take credit for all her ideas and decisions (when they're good), but I KNOW, deep down, that some small credit is due me for the path she's carving in life.

An occasion for such celebration came lately, when I opened my e-mail to read an out-burst of rationale of a type I'd never quite encountered in a Megan e-mail before; she was telling all her friends to see the light in regards to those pesky and poorly executed threat-like chain mails that are endlessly circulating, pretending to be from the creators of Hotmail or whoever; and demanding that you harass 18 or more friends by proliferating some useless junk mail just to keep your free but crappy e-mail account. Megan's response? Well, it was short, but it was sweet, and my heart just swelled with pride as I read it.

Time stood still. The whole earth seemed to pause and hold its breath in expectation. And finally, finally, my little sister stopped fighting her destiny, and took her first baby steps in becoming more like me.

It's all in the ranting.

People, this is proof positive! I mean, I knew she must at least have learned some things in life from me, and THIS is one of them! I mean, ranting is my LIFE! I can't go more than 18 hours without spilling my guts in the most burdensome fashion on those poor unfortunates standing nearby! If you're on my phone list, in the Inter-faith room, or in my e-mail address book, look out! I just may puke up all of my frustrations of the moment on you in one swift blow! (Yes, I KNOW it's excessive, and Yes, I'm SORRY. If you've ever been a victim of ME, I'm seeking professional help. It's why I've become a blogger. To rant into earless cyberspace.)

But back to Megan, whatever the foundational causes of your sudden outburst of conviction and opinion, I've never been so proud!

Okay, alright. All wild and unintelligable ranting aside, as much as I like to joke (much to Megan's chagrin) that all her finest and wisest moments are mere emulations of me, her secret hero, the reality is (as I can no longer deny it) that Megan Lee Cochrane is really coming into her own. Have you MET her lately? I mean, she's always looked like my older, hotter sister (much to MY chagrin), but watching her navigate friendships, school, life, being half-handicapped, and deeply religious- lately, I'm seeing something I've never seen in her before. My baby sister's becoming her own woman! (Insert cheesy sob here.)

Okay, stop your cheesy sobbing. I'm being serious.

It is, right now, the eve of Megan's 19th birthday. Yes folks, as of a half-hour from now, she's legal in Saskatchewan! But we all know what this is really about: For the next 3 weeks her 19 will look pretty formidable up next to my 20, and you can bet she's gonna be doing her darndest to close the gap. So Megs, go for it! Giver' hoss! For the next 3 weeks, you can be my slightly younger, slightly hotter, better-than-ever little sis. And I'm going to treat you with the dignity you deserve! I'm going to brag about you, tell all my friends, and even hook you up for a couple blind dates! (Oh, the generosity of me...) But after that, I'm resuming my rightful role:

That annoying thing that popped out 2 years minus 3 weeks ahead of you in life.

Happy Birthday, Megan. You're Awesome. You're 19. And you still dance circles around me any day.