So I about wore myself out yesterday with all the typing and typing and typing, because SWEET MERCY! That was a lot of words to sum up a weekend!
(Thank you. It’s a gift — all the words. If I don’t let them out, they just rattle around in my head all day, and then Hubs has to listen to them pour out every evening before he goes to bed.)
(Hubs is very thankful that I have an outlet for all those words, because he only pretends to listen, because apparently girls who talk a lot exhaust him.)
(He knew this about me before he gave me a really sweet ring.)
Today’s post will be very short (and by very short, I mean less than fifteen hundred words), because today is Sister’s birthday, and the party-action and the Starbucks beverages and the shopping, shopping, shopping and the eating, eating, eating and all the laughing have worn me out.
And by worn out, I mean it was a totally fun day.
So if you know Sister, do call her tonight and shout, “Happy birthday” into your phone when she answers hers. And ask her questions like, “Did they have plastic when you were just a little girl?” and “Was it difficult to fight the dinosaurs off when they came into your yard when you were younger?” and “Were you ever friends with Laura Ingalls in the first grade?”
Because THIS, people, is what Sister looked like on her first day of the first grade.
Our mom took this picture. She had the camera set up on a tripod thing, and she crawled beneath the black fabric hood and told Sister to smile, only the sun was in Sister’s eyes, so she had to squint and give the Hurry Up and Take the Picture Already smile that most kids give off during pictures that are meant to be perfect and priceless. And then the flash went off with a big puff of smoke that probably contributed to early-onset global warming, and Sister ran off to join Laura and Willie and Nellie and Mary in a game of jacks at the school yard.
Those were precious times, because Mary hadn’t gone blind yet.
Happy birthday, Sister.