May 01, 2007


My baby sister has graduated from UM. She is a person now, and she has to do stuff. She’s panicked about this. Luckily, Bill Clinton told her if she eats her greens she can save Rwanda, and that made her feel a lot better.

The day was as hot as sex with Hugh Jackman on a Georgia porch swing on the Fourth of July, lasted three hours, and all positions soon became uncomfortable (I’ll be here all week). Our seats faced due north, so I had a sunburn only on the right side of my nose (because who puts on sunblock at 9:00 on a cloudy morning?), making me look like this for the last two days. My poor sister, stuck in the middle of the field, is rockin’ the lobster with a sole white strip across her forehead ‘thanks’ to the mortarboard. I’m proud of her, and I told her so, thinking how weird it was that my pride mattered, and that she could ever think she didn’t have it. We have recently formed Team Cool; to join, you need a BA, a bitingly snarky attitude, disappointment in a large portion of humanity, and a net worth of less than $30K.* I’m Commander-in-Chief, she’s veep. Let me know if you’re on the team; we’ll make buttons.

My grandmother** was unable to attend, but watched the whole ceremony ‘on the inter-net’ (“I saw Bill! He was talking and you were all there and it was just wonderful! It kept skipping, though, will they play it on TV? Can I tape it?” Hilarious). She’s recovering nicely from meniscus surgery; I guess being the foremost class act for aspiring chicks of all ages puts you at special risk for injuries (well, that and circumnavigating a rambunctious new puppy). She is currently on the mend and moving around just fine.

One of my very best friends is preggers. Knocked up like a cheap door. Renting out the guest womb. Giving the rabbit his last rites. And completely out of the (clear) blue (easy). I’m probably not invited to the shower now, so I’ll speak for the internet and say congratulations and all best wishes and you effing rock.

Also, My Aunt Jo is writing an article about what it’s like to have three kids, a job, and diabetes. Unbelievably, she manages to laugh about it—and not even in that teeth-gnashing way people laugh about bad drivers or hold music. It’s a vignette based on the book she’s been writing on the same subject in her spare time (3 AM, in the backyard, with a flashlight, etc.) and I really hope it gets picked up.

And, of course, Friday is The Sooz’ birthday. Untold amounts of candy, liquor and debauchery soon to be seen here in its embarrassing glory.

There are just so many strong women in my life. Women who like doors held for them, women who get their own, women who will crack it off its hinges to make a raft in a flood. These women do yoga and eat doughnuts. They recycle and hate liars and lose the clicker and shovel snow. Some drop everything to be with you, others just drop everything. Words like ‘caring’ and ‘special’ are drenched with sarcasm and barfing noises. When you need it, they’ll brave hellfire to get it, and they usually know what it is before you did. They are Amazons who cry at the sad onion commercial. They know who they are. I love them all.

Congratulations to my Meggie, the newest badass female in the conclave.

* Team Whining Artists was rejected for being too literal; we strive for more.
** Her Excellence, Supreme Reigning Empress, Team Cool.

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