To a very special sister . . .

... On your special day.

I have a special wish,

and it's this I'd like to say:

Happy Birthday, Jen,

hope it's super fun,

because you're fun AND super,

and unlike anyone.

Wow. When fantastic greeting card poetry rains, it pours. That just oozed right out of me and I could almost not type it fast enough. (Also, I mean that last line in a good way, Jen. You're so "unique." :D)

Anyway, today is the anniversary of my dear sister Jen's birth. And really, she deserves an entire blog dedicated to her, not just a post. But a post it will have to be. We're very close in age, Jen and I, and have been practically attached at the hip since I was born. In the beginning, we fought. A lot. But now there's only love.

As the two girls after a truckload of boys in my family, we sort of received twin-like treatment. We got the same Christmas presents (just in different colors), we got similar clothes, and we have forever been referred to as one entity—"The Girls." Therefore, many things Jen did I was doing at the same time or I was at least there for, so much of our lives has been shared with each other.

Like walking around together at ages 5 and 3 while you were wearing the "Want a little girl? Take my sister." shirt. So, so sweet.

Like lazily watching TBS Saturday afternoons and being totally sucked in to The Elvis Presley Story probably half a dozen times. Even though we didn't really like it and even though it was like 5 hours long, we still felt this subconscious compulsion to finish the dang TV movie.

Like the time you used my chapstick after you gave yourself a hearty dose of Anbesol for a canker and unwittingly numbed my lips.

Like watching hours and hours of Saved By The Bell together.

Like making our own 75-question Saved By The Bell trivia game together.

(Quick! What's the name of the girl in the wheelchair?)

Like the special girl time we shared in the bathroom at Lake Powell. 

Like the time bats dive-bombed our heads one night at Lake Powell.

Like the times you would make weird shadow puppets and tell me fun stories when we shared a room.

Like the time I was headed to the bathroom on campus and you said, "Don't let it squirt on ya!" (After I got over my initial disgust, I realized you meant the motion-activated air freshener that would always hit us right in the face.)

Like writing "no fixing mistakes" letters and emails and laughing hysterically over them.

Like the times you finally agreed to play school with me, only to infuriate me by pretending to be a student named "You." (You was an aggravating student, to say the least. We could never get down to business because You never knew I was talking to her. All plans foiled.)

Like the time I tried to defend you to your nemesis of a junior high teacher and he threw the lesson plan out the window that day and instead put me on trial in front of the whole class. (Okay, so you weren't there for that one, but it involved you . . . heavily.)

Like the time we visited the Roman "threeum."


Like years and years of playing games together: Phase 10 (which you'd always win), gin rummy (which I'd always win), cards on the patio, and the 20+ player, extremely competitive Pictionary games in Monticello.

Like the time we both thought we were supposed to be singing "God Speed the Right" and had to sing at mach 10 to fit all the words in to the wrong tune.

Like the times I led you around campus as though you were blind.

Like the time you went all the way to Polish town with me, even when you were 7 months pregnant, just so I could get some authentic chalka. :D


Oh, I could go on and on, but I guess this probably isn't very interesting for anyone else. I, however, absolutely love it. And you. You've been a top-notch sister (after we got over the arguing phase) and it's been a delight to share so many fun, funny, happy things with you.

And I'm scheduling this post to publish super early tomorrow morning so that it will be there when you're up bright and early on the east coast. Happy Birthday, Jez.