My earliest memory of my oldest younger sister involves the two of us quarreling in our bedroom. We wore matching pajama sets, and she hurled a plastic tiger at my face. It makes sense now that she would throw something at me with such force and accuracy; Jane has proven to be more of an Older Sister than I, beginning with those fights. She usually won.
When she was about five years old, Jane changed her name to Vivian. She was the first to pierce her ears and the only one of us to grow her hair long before the age of eighteen. Jane won all the blue ribbons: Homecoming Queen, cheerleader, clear skin, big brown eyes. She taught herself early to work hard, save the money, and when I was deathly afraid of letting my toes touch the ocean floor (for fear of being bitten by a crab or worse), she flew bare-footed into the waves.
Jane regularly sends me reminders via text: “Cary, don’t be a bitch today!” “Sister, have a little fun, why don’t you?” And nothing - not the strongest horse tranquilizer - can pull me out of the doldrums like her persistent poking and prodding. “Wake up! Seeeeester! Let’s eat cereal and watch cartoons.” (Angry now.) “Get the fuck out of bed and be sociable.” It was Jane who taught me how to dance and Jane who taught me how to curl my hair, not the other way around. What have I taught her?
Today I am shipping to her an enormous box of hand-me-downs. I think I have taught Jane how to dress. But every time we go home for the holidays she tackles me and forcibly shifts the part in my hair from center to side. She has some style of her own. And with a made-up name like Vivian, of course she always gets what she wants.

Today I received a sugary crustacean from Sweet Baby Jane.
She has been an exceptionally great sister lately.
Not sure how she found a Maine lobster in Birmingham, Alabama.
But I’ll let that be her little secret.
Jake Davis keeps popping up in conversations lately.
Anyway I’ll be here on Friday, taking good care of that ice cold beer.
From the EVERLASTING SUMMER MIXTAPE: Stone Temple Pilots: “Sour Girl”
“Making your own infusion allows you to put your own stamp on things and offer something no one else has,” said Dave Arnold, a cocktail maven who works as the director of culinary technology at the French Culinary Institute in New York. And that, he added, has great appeal in a cocktail era as competitive as the current one.
Mr. Arnold said that infusions had the additional benefit of enabling a bartender to work with the fresh herbs and seasonal produce that chefs are always crowing about.
But why not just mix or muddle such ingredients into a drink at the time of its making? Bartenders noted that infused or otherwise flavored spirits allow for a more even distribution of the flavor or effect in the finished drink.
- Frank Bruni
In my house we just slice a watermelon in half and pour in the vodka.