[for Monday, Oct. 1]
My big sister turned [age withheld to protect the chronically OLD!!!] Monday. I swooped down to Hardin County to surprise her, but my mom accidentally let the surprise slip as we were ten minutes away from taking her out to lunch, but that’s okay. It was funny anyway.
Let me tell you a bit about my sister. She’s possibly the most friendly person you’ll ever meet. She describes herself by saying she’s never met a stranger. I swear, any time I go anywhere in Savannah with her, it is a non-stop reunion of friends and co-workers and acquaintances from the time we enter a place to the time we exit.
She’s a fabulous mother, as evidenced by the complete awesomeness of my nephews. And I’m not just saying that; I’d call them brats if they were brats, but they are great, great kids who are simultaneously courteous and precocious, self-aware and funny.
Now let me tell you a bit about some of the favorite stories my sister loves to tell. She’s about eight years older than I am, so by the time I came roaring into existence (on Christmas Day, no less, which surely deposited a good bit of playful resentment into her for a while as she sat at my grandmother’s house and wondered where the hell Santa was), she was hitting the practical jokester age. That part of her came into full bloom as I got old enough to hobble around on my own.
She loves to remind me of the time that she put Tabasco sauce on my peanut butter sandwich. And the time she made me eat a crabapple. And the time she told me to eat some red onions that she convinced me was actually red cabbage.
Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I can blame her for the picky eating habits I eventually developed.
Oh my god, it all makes so much sense now!
Happy birthday, Kris.