When Emily first came into my life, I was an angsty teenager, probably clad in all black and almost certainly sporting a bad attitude. I did not appreciate the curly-haired kid in my midst, and I’m guessing I wasn’t terribly nice. It’s hard to imagine now, 14 years later. The pesky 9-year-old from my memory grew up to be not just an evil step-sister (come on Em, face it, you played the role on occasion!), but a great friend, co-conspirator, bridesmaid, fellow Harry Potter-lover and giver of the best birthday gifts* ever. For all of this I’m grateful!
|Did you know they have a Pope-themed room at our local Buca di Beppo?|
Emily sat in the chair of honor, naturally, and practiced her Pope-ly wave. I
do believe she was disappointed at the lack of genuflecting though. Hrm.
Even though I do not understand her aversion to tomatoes, melon or gravy (seriously??) or her predilections for wrestling, football and hunting (seriously!), I’m proud to call Emily Ann my sister. I’m constantly blessed by her thoughtfulness, wicked humor, and heavenly cooking**. I appreciate her willingness to lend a hand whether that be housesitting, sewing a zillion wedding fleurs, or helping me hurriedly finish prepping for parties. And I’m especially proud at how hard she works—managing contracts for the state of California, caring for two ridiculous puggles, and keeping our parents in line. Thank you, Emily, for being fabulous.
Oh yeah, before I forget: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
* All hail the ice cream maker and accompanying accoutrement!
** I’m talking the world’s greatest lasagna and garlic cheesy bread people.
Labels: birthdays, Gratitude, sisters