1. She is a natural blonde. It is so very unfair that my sister, my mother, and Seconda are all natural blondes, and that even when I do get a good dye job, I look horrible with blonde hair. I will never know "more fun". But my seestor? Fun. Lots of it. Always. And I used to be envious, but now I am mature and comfortable in my own mousy brown hair, and I wish her only continued happiness in her blonditude.
2. She is still in her young thrities, and her children are in high school. Things are much different now than when she was young in her twenties with two toddlers a year apart and she couldn't always stay out late shooting pool and stealing hubcaps with the rest of us, but now who is laughing? That's right. My seestor. She is my mommy mentor, and if I can be half as confidently laid-back and, at the same time, supremely on the ball with my own kids, I'll be a happy woman. Even if I'm not blonde. And my kids won't let me out late to shoot pool.
3. She has a kick-tush sense of humor and she's a kick-butt writer. So, if you ever meet her, you know, shove a board down the back of your pants or you'll walk away with a sore backside. I'd call her writing style a little Douglas Adams, a little Dolly Parton, a smattering of Tom Robbins, and a whole lot of my seestor. Here. Read this. See? How do you like her NOW? Yeah...that's right.
4. She tans, not burns. So, uh, blonde, blue eyes, tan...did I mention that I have a mole on the tip of my nose that has begun to sprout hair?
5. She rides a motorcycle. C'mon! How cool is that? If I tried to even get on the thing, it would fall over and crush my leg.
6. She knows 50 ways to (accidentally) kill a cat. Ask her about it some time. We are not a sentimental family when it comes to animals. Well...maybe just a little. I saw her cry during Old Yeller. But, this is a woman you want on Survivor with you.
7. She is a natural whiz at animal husbandry. This may seem a little contradictory after just telling you about the cat-killing thing. But, really, those cats were asking for it. Anyway, my sister fearlessly raises fish, chickens, ducks, dogs, takes in three-legged cats and nurses them to health, and she can transport goats without losing a windshield. I think that a small donkey is in her future.
Oh! And once, she came face-to-face with a black bear right on her own back porch and, from what she tells me, she didn't pee her pants. In fact, I'm pretty sure she went back outside and took photos of the bear. WHAT?! That's right. My sister is like St. Francis of Assisi and Johnny Knoxville all rolled into one.
And, for those of you still shaking your head about the series of unfortunate cat events, can I tell you that one time she gave a kitten mouth-to-...uh...muzzle... resuscitation? I love her for that.
8. She is a realtor. And she knows about mortgages and home inspections and dealing with stressed-out-house-buying people - things that I can't begin to comprehend. Honestly...one time I read the course description for a realtor class, and I was lost by the third sentence. My sister, my envy.
9. She plays guitar and sings like a bluegrass angel.
10. I could go on and on, but I think that the final thing I need to mention right now is that one time, my sister pushed my dead Mazda down a flat street in the middle of center-city Philadelphia and succeeded in jumping it into gear. A FLAT street. Did you get that part? Not down some slight incline in Society Hill, but down Pine Street in the middle of the night, jumped it into gear, and I think we may have even been drunk. Or about to get drunk. (Kids....er-uh... don't drink and drive.) Tell me: when was the last time you did that for your weinee seestor?
11. I'm sorry...I need to say one more thing: jester and JFK stadium. That's all.
So, now you can go and read her meme or whatever post is up now on her blog, and you can wish her a happiest of happy birthdays.
I only have one sister in the whole wide world, and I'm delighted and tickled and very, very grateful that it's her.
She is an extraordinary, witty, creative, passionate, down-to-earth, throw-your-hat-over-the fence, beautiful human being, and I don't tell her that nearly enough.