wearing the panties

I have a BabySister. She is a big baby now, but still the Baby of the Family. Her best, most true, cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die friend is our cousin-brother, whom we shall call Tel. Tel and BabySister were born days apart and have ever since shared parts of their heart you can't ever take back.

Tel is living in sin with Butter, a handsome girl who grew up while I was away and has now become The One for Tel. Butter is smooth and dark and has an aquiline face. Unfortunately it has become clear that Butter is also the Boss. The not-so-good Boss of Tel. They live in another southern land, far enough for them from our disappointment and close enough for us to care.

Last night, sitting out under a black sky on a glittering green verandah, swatting mosquitoes and scratching their bites, MyMama and I were discussing Tel's life in the hands of Butter. MyMama instructed me to tell BabySister to take control of Tel and wise him up and advise/order/convince/beg him to get out from under the dominating Butter. "Mama" I said, "You are asking me to replace one woman Boss with another. Tel has to make his own decisions. And his own mistakes."

"Hhhhmpfh" was the disgruntled reply.

In this country no woman is ever going to be 'good enough' for the Son-Brother. My advice to young highlander islander men is make your pick, stake your claim, defend your right and take responsibility for your decisions ... except of course unless you are related to my Family ... then we reserve the unmitigated right to drag you kicking and screaming unceremoniously from a certainly less-than-worthy fate in the arms of someone who is certainly less-than-worthy.