Are You Really 30?

There it is. I've already committed the hugest faux pas of birthdays by mentioning your age. And I did it right in the title. Well, since you don't answer your phone on your birthday, which is also a faux pas, it's your own fault. (Aren't you proud of me, spelling "faux pas" correctly? In the true fashion of our older seester, "I GOOGLED it!" Which I don't think diminishes my awesomeness in using French in my writing. But back to your awesomeness.)

It's truly amazing that you've made it this far. AND with your original brain, despite your family's best efforts to make you absolutely insane. (Which is what I am after spending an entire month having the same conversation 5,000 times with Grandma. But back to your insanity.)

You are not just a wonderful seester based on your deliciously yummy and incredibly intelligent offspring - though it certainly didn't hurt your odds. But you are a fabulous mama to both of your girls! And not just because you took them to Starbucks. (Ok, mostly because you took them to Starbucks. Yes, them. I didn't stutter. Selene had a steamed vanilla and her little sister had a PSL - awww . . . her little seester!! But enough about my addictions to cute butts and Starbutts - I mean Starbucks. Back to your addictions.)

It still continues to blow my mind how opposite and at odds we were growing up, though I don't think we were so much opposite as at odds. I still remember you hitting me with a brush. . . . But I also remember you writing me letters from college about loving to get mail from me - in your little "spider home" did you call it? And I remember the feeling of being so happy to be a bridesmaid in your wedding, and how useful I felt that day (though I think my usefulness was spent in running down hallways yelling at groomsmen who were supposed to be ushering guests to their seats but were instead offering to peel the breading off the chicken nuggets they were eating so that I could have a gluten free one. Oh, and pinning boutonnieres on lopsided. Did you think that was how you spelled that word? Because spell check says "yes" and I think it looks "no." Enough about my fiascoes. Back to your fiascoes.)

Basically, the older we've gotten (I'm getting dangerously close to that faux pas again!), the more I've enjoyed being your seester. I love the music, and books, and movies, and loves, and laughs, and - more than anything else (ok that's a big order to fill, so I THINK more than anything else, but I could be wrong) - I love that you get me. Me. Weirdo leetle seester. Is actually understood by someone else on the planet. Wow. That's not much of a complement to conclude with, but there it is. I see things every day and know that no one but you would completely understand the thought, or the sarcasm, or the stupid movie quotation running through my head at that moment but YOU. "You are my sun, my moon, my starlit sky. I dwell in darkness without you." I know. I'm a stupid dykeenee. I'm not looking up that one cause even the correct spelling would be made up, so what's wrong with mine?

If you have survived all of this long-winded blog post, know this. You are my favorite today. Because this is the day that I celebrate getting to have an older sister that I call because I can, not because I have to have a good reason. Or a coherent conversation, because Dr. Who might get in there and then you'll have lost me. (See, I got the Doctor into your birthday letter. And now your birthday is perfect. You're welcome.)

I love you.

Happy Birthday, Han.

Love,
Rach

A Birthday Letter

Dear Alicia,

Clearly, today is your birthday. If it wasn't, I wouldn't be writing you a birthday letter. Unless it was belated. Which it is not. Which makes me a good seester. But this is about you . . .

You are my favorite eldest sister. You are the "beautiful one" by self-declaration, the "creative one" by general consensus, and the "beloved one" by me. You are an amazing mom, cook, blogger, and Christian. Did I mention sister? Oh, yeah, you're pretty good at that too - just ask Hannah if you need a second opinion.

I'm glad I've got a sister who can talk to me about everything and nothing. Someone who calls me just so she has someone to chat with during her late night grocery runs. Someone who doesn't mind that I'm reading her Martha Stewart Living while she's telling me the price of barbecue sauce. I'm glad that every time my sister comes for a visit she makes sure she crawls in bed with me at least one night and whispers with me long after everyone else has zonked out. I'm glad for our deep conversations we have hiding in the bathroom at her house because there's no where else we can quietly talk after everyone's asleep once again. I'm glad I have a sister who has for some reason not given up nor been discouraged by my lack of home-making skills but continues to send me the easy recipes she knows I might be able to pull off. I'm glad I have a sister who's brutally honest about what she thinks of my hair or clothes or anything, because I never have to wonder what she's thinking or if she's not telling me the truth. I'm glad I have a sister to ask weird questions and go to when no one else would get it or want to.

So Happy Birthday, dear seester. I love you dearly! You are a wonderful older sister and I'm so thankful for you!

Love,

the leetle seester

A Post about Inspiration

Dear Rachel,

I just wrote a HUGE post on my own blog about inspiration. A post that was inspired by your comment to me about inspiration. Are you confused yet? You should be. It was drastic. Inspired!

Anyway, thanks, I guess. I wouldn't have written it if it weren't for you. So....yeah.

I sent Alicia the invite to be an author on this blog this morning. She should get it when she wakes up today. Well, she might get it later than that depending on when she actually checks her email. So, Alicia... if you're reading this and haven't gotten the link yet...check your spam mail just in case. And if all else fails, send me a message on FB or email me and I'll resend the invite AGAIN. For the third time. : )

Back to you, Rach. I hope school is going well for you. I wish I could see you teach sometime. I have to admit that I have such a hard time imagining you actually teaching. It's easy to imagine you at the front of the classroom as the teacher, but the actual teaching is hard to imagine. Now, before you get all up in arms, I don't mean that I don't think you can manage teaching. I'm sure you're a great teacher. It's just the seriousness that teachers have to have sometimes. I just can't see you pulling it off. Probably because I get to see the non-teacher you all the time. Someday I'm going to come visit you during the week so I can watch you teach. okay?

Well, I gotta start work soon. Love you and chat with ya later, leetle seester.

Love always,

Hannah (the one that lives with her foot in her mouth)

My Coffee Addiction Fed

Sister,

You are an angel. You feed my coffee addiction. You sponsor my nonsense. You encourage my insanity. You listen to my litanies. You laugh at my idiocy. And I love you. For all you do. For all you are. For being . . . my sister.

Love,

Your Sister

The Very Last Minute is the Best One

It's true, sister dear. The last minute is better than all the ones before and certainly better than all those after! Isn't the last bite the one you savor the most? The last look the longest? The last sniff of a fragrant blossom the deepest? So which letter would you prefer: the perfunctory middle of the month "blah," or the clever and creative attempt to play off the procrastination accusation? So . . .

Dear Sister,

I love you. I feel guilty for not having contacted our other sisters about contributing yet. I had a good day at school. I changed my decorations from hearts to shamrocks today. I will start teaching my kids about prepositions tomorrow. I think Shepherd Smith on Fox News is amusing and attractive. I used to love his ties. I ate tuna, mashed potatoes, and a salad for supper. I think Mom's going to kill Jack if he keeps being such a nut-dog. I watched the movie "Buried" yesterday. I will never watch anything with Ryan Reynolds again. I don't know if you've noticed and appreciated. I am really working hard to start every sentence with the word "I." I hope you realize what a challenge that can be. I am going to go now. I will write again soon. I miss you. I hope you write me back soon.

Love,

I

Dearest, darlingest, most annoyingest, leetlest seester(est)

I love you. Happy birthday. You're getting old. (hahaha)

Love from the most wonderfulest, coolest, sweetest, bigger(est) seester(est),

Hannah :-)

Talk about cutting it close!

So, I know I was the one who said we had to post at least once a month and go figure, I'm the one waiting until the last minute to do so.

I miss you. I wish you lived closer. I have a present for you. I got you a copy of Beedle the Bard. See the pretty picture below? That's what your copy looks like. Only....less flat. More...4D.

I hope you don't already have a copy of this book, but if you do, I'll just pass it on to someone else I guess.

I just started reading Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief today. I'm really enjoying it, but as much as I'd like to, I don't think I'm going to finish it up tonight.

Sorry this letter has been oh, so boring. I'll try to do better next month.

Love always,

The older (NOT stupid) sister