Quality Time

I don't really know how to describe either of my two brothers. I can say they're both highly intelligent, funny as hell and out of their minds, but I guess Michael, my big brother, is the easier target. He's a wonderful actor; he was also a cab driver and a bartender for years. He runs his own theatre on the lower east side, he almost never sleeps, and, as I mentioned before, his mode of transportation is a Harley he brought back from an extended trip to Maui. Michael is over the top and he lives life big, so when he wants to see his kid sister, it's an event. Well, sort of.

One day Mike called me and announced he wanted to spend the day with me at the barn. When I picked him up he was standing on the corner holding a heap of paper in his arms, an address book, several pens, a bottle of water, a script and a cell phone. He wore blue jeans, a black cowboy shirt, cowboy boots, and yes, a ten-gallon hat. "You're not going with me dressed like that!" I told him, but he assured me that he was. "I know a thing or two about horses Sis," he said as we approached the barn, but when I handed him a brush and asked him to help me groom, his response didn't resemble that of a true horseman. "I'm not going near that thing!" he barked, and he proceeded to find himself a shady spot on the grass where he settled in for a three-hour nap. After my ride I cooled down the horse, put him away, and woke up my brother. "Let’s go Mike," I whispered, and he got up, stumbled to the car and continued his nap all the way back to New York.

I love my brother dearly and I accept him completely. What choice do I have?