HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUCKERS!

In about 2 hours, Aunt M will be 24 years old. 

24 whole years.

I remember the day she was born. I was 2 and a half, and my grandma Lois was babysitting me while my mom was in labor. I remember going outside to hang some clothes on the line with grandma, when a bird came out of nowhere and pooped on my right forearm. I remember it vividly (however, I don't think grandma L remembers this). 

Now, I've been pooped on by birds many times in my life, but this was the first and certainly the most notable. Oh. Gosh. I am suddenly reminded of a poem that a boy named David Barry in my 5th grade class taught me, and I feel rather inclined to share it with y'all (La, M and I went out to dinner tonight and I blame the following 2 paragraphs on the wine I drank):

*ahem*

Birdie, birdie in the sky,

Drop some whitewash in my eye.

I don't care, I don't cry,

I'm just glad that cows can't fly.

Wow. That poem just came right out of nowhere, like "Heeellllooooo there! Remember me? I'm the little rhyme that the ever-so-annoying David Barry used to chant over and over until you wanted to kick him where the sun don't shine!"

Gosh.

AAAAANYWAY. My friend Kristin always says it's good luck when a bird drops one on you, and I know from experience that she's right. Because that day, the best thing that ever happened to me – well – happened. 

My sister was born. 

All 9 pounds - one ounce of her. Looking all cute and fat like an Eskimo with squinty eyes and head full of jet-black hair. And I think we've been inseparable since that day.

Those of you who are privileged to know my little sis know that she is a beautiful, kind and accomplished woman who is wise beyond her years. At the age of 20, she graduated from Miami University with a degree in Exercise Science. She immediately applied to Northwestern's Feinberg School of Medicine and was accepted into their accelerated program to become a Doctor of Physical Therapy. She graduated with special honors at the ripe old age of 23. Quite a feat, if you ask me. 

Molly has always been there for me, helping me plan and organize and do all sorts of things that I'm not good at doing by myself. She took care of me when I thought my life was over because I was pregnant (why do pregnant people think that?). She told me it was going to be okay (and she knew). She took lamaze class with me, and helped me through my labor and delivery. She moved in with me in college to help with baby La. She has been urging me to move to Chicago ever since she started school at Northwestern. And now that I've done it I can't imagine living anywhere else.

So, I'd like to propose a toast to Molly. Just for being Molly. For being selfless and kind and positive and driven and wonderful. 

Molly, you deserve the world. And I know you're going to get it. 

Here, here!!!

... So. Muckers. Now that you're 24 you'll probably be too mature to make me pose for a photo in front of a painting of a butt-crack (see above).

I hope not.