First off, I should have known better than to go snowshoeing with my sister's friends. These people are fitness junkies; they routinely run through the mountains for 12 miles, or do triathlons for fun, or go back-country skiing. But it sounded idyllic: moonlight snowshoeing with cocktails afterward.

We strapped on the shoes, turned on our headlamps, and off we went. Down the hill, up the hill, down the hill, and the UP THE HILL. Oh no, I thought, this isn't just a friendly snowshoe stroll, this is a snowshoe march. We literally went up a 30-degree hill for over 20 minutes. It just kept going up. I'd look ahead to see where the other folks were, and I'd have to keep lifting my eyes until, some distance away and about 60 degrees above the (virtual) horizon, I'd see their lights. Holy cow.

My sister was very good about staying with me. I could have done without the well-intended pep talks, though ("when I first started hanging out with these people, I always felt like I'd be left behind, like I'd never be as fit as them, but I realized they like me and want me around, so I don't worry about it anymore." This from someone who runs 12 miles at a time).

At one point I cried, just because I was exhausted, and my knees started to hurt (the patellar tendons are not happy with me, ever since I rammed them into the dashboard going 40mph during the summer of '06). All the issues I had from childhood about being left behind welled to the fore and I had to purge through tears. Then I felt a lot better.

Even on the way down (remember, once you've gone up a hill, you have to go back down, with your knees on fire), my sister and I fell behind the pack. It's like they have to do all things at a pace that gets them well into the aerobic zone and beyond. Whatever.

I'm glad I did it, because it burned a hell of a lot of calories. I'm also glad because every time I have the fucking crazy idea that what my sister does is attainable or even desirable, I realize that I am on my own path and IT IS GOOD FOR ME. I don't have to meet anyone's standard but my own. She doesn't actively pressure me, but anyone with a sibling or anyone with perceptive powers will understand that rivalry is not always overt, welcomed, or perpetrated. Sometimes it just is.

Going home in the car we were talking about the yurt that one of the women lives in. My sister kept talking about "the Forum teaches you that you're the one limiting yourself; you're limiting yourself because you say you want a yurt but you come up with all these obstacles..." to which I replied, "just shut the fuck up about the Forum and listen to what I'm saying. My friend offered to let me put a yurt on her property, not realizing that I would want electrical service and a composting toilet and things she wouldn't want out there. I'm not limiting the idea, simply acknowledging that my friend made an impractical and ignorant offer!"

She started to cry. She wasn't looking for sympathy, she was just startled because I'm usually the one peacekeeping. I apologized right away. Then I apologized again when we got home, and she said we were okay.

I just hate being preached at. I hate people assuming that they know what is going on, that they have a solution. She's so tightly wound that she yells at her kids the minute they present as an obstacle to her having one minute of peace and quiet. Her life is incredibly overscheduled and stressful.

But I digress. Sort of. I love my sister. We're still working out how to be good to each other. When she tries to advise me, I assume she's judging. When I say something to her, she assumes I'm a namby-pamby whiner because I am a relativist and entertain a number of solutions instead of bootstrapping myself directly toward the most expedient, least verbal conclusion.

I washed the pots and pans today. I organized the mud room. Because I wanted to. I wanted to.

I took the girls to school, then later built a snow jump for the boy. We played outside while Sissie napped. (Snowshoeing kept us out late, and we didn't get home until midnight.)

She'll be less cranky after her nap.

I think I would like to go snowshoeing again. But this time with west-side friends who take the time to enjoy the trip.