Weird, just weird

You know what's weird? My sister in law has a blog. I discovered that my brother Johnny is taking the GMAT and applying to another grad school from her blog. This is also the way I learned that my brother was having his tonsils removed (followed shortly by multiple psychotic drug-induced ravings from same brother, who was sure his hydromorphone was giving him kidney failure).
I have to keep up with my Army brother Joey by coercing my husband, who has access to Army email through his government job, to email him - thus reducing my husband to a courier of messages like, "Are you taking your glucosamine for your knee? Make sure you wear socks to bed when you're in the field so you don't get a chill."
The best way to keep up with Abe, my running brother (who lives less than half a mile from me and works at my favorite coffee place, which is less than a quarter of a mile away) is to make politically inflammatory Facebook statuses in the hopes that his idealistic, sophmore-at-a-liberal-arts-school self will comment in indignation and, in doing so, reveal a tiny bit about his every day life.
I can't talk to Sam because he doesn't talk. He says five words a month, and they usually aren't to me.
Nate makes it challenging. He doesn't do social networks because they are beneath his brilliance and he won't text because it costs him ten cents and darn it, if brilliant people aren't always broke. His emails are often brief and in Haiku form, so spend large portions of my day wondering if he really is caught in summer thunder, or if the phrase was allegorical.
Izzy said something to me but his voice is so deep now I couldn't concentrate, I was too busy wondering where my cute little baby who used to play Three Musketeer dress up all day went. And who is this 6-ft giant with a beard?!
And little Matthew is still too young to be allowed to use the phone without permission, twelve being apparently the age of phone accountability at my parents' house.
Communicating with my brothers is so weird.