The Summer of Sisters has gotten off to a smashing start. We chilled, we enjoyed a Yay! You Finished The First Day Of Your Internship! Meal, we wondered what Adam was on on The Voice, we went to bed at a reasonable hour … and then we got up this morning and marched/slash/wheeled off to work. Like a couple of ADULTS.
So happy.
My sister comes today!!
FOR TWO WHOLE MONTHS!
We haven’t lived together since 2006. She was 13! I was 24 and very confused!
We are now neither of those things! (Most of the time.)
This is huge.
This is HUGE!
And Fido will finally have a friend.
Guess who got a summer internship at the Mandarin Oriental in NYC!!
(Give you a hint: she’s not the four-legged one.)
WHOOHOO!!!!
Let the Summer of Sisters begin!
UCSB & Tulane side by side in that upper right quadrant. We may be 11 and a half years apart, but my sister & I ain’t so different.
(via fullcredit)
My glamorous* sister interviewing for summer internships in NYC!
*Smart & Powerful, too.
My sister just sent me this photo she took from her deck.
Oh and also this one from her 20th birthday party last month:
You know, it’s a tough life, but someone’s got to do it.
My mom must have been feeling nostalgic last night ‘cause she sent us these photos of Baby Gena. Look at those skinny little newborn legs! Look at that proud (but nervous) Big Sister in a puffy headband and sweet-ass turquoise turtleneck! Look at how beautiful my mom is!
… and gee whiz will ya get a load of those Mom Jeans. (Ironic that I’m the one wearing ‘em.)
Now do you understand why I cringe every time I see a twenty-year-old East Village hipster girl in Mom Jeans?
Do they think decent-fitting jeans are a GIVEN?
Do they think they just FELL from the SKY?
NO!
We worked HARD to get out of those jeans!
We suffered so you wouldn’t have to!
What about Progress?
What about Choice?
What about a Woman’s Right to Flatter Her Bum??
Ungrateful little girls, I tell you.
My sister was born when I was eleven and a half — which means I spent eleven and a half formative years as an only child.
So I feel like I speak with authority when I say: given the choice, I would always, always, always choose sister.
I mean sure.
I used to swing her around in circles by her ankles when she was six months old.
And I pushed her around on the vacuum cleaner while she screamed bloody murder. (For years she had panic attacks whenever she heard that trademark hum. It was so bad we had to do the cleaning when she was out of the house. And until recently, they never knew why. Oops.)
I “accidentally” left her in the elevator of our high-rise apartment building when she could barely speak.
And I once left her in our house while I went to the store to get snacks … with my 13-year-old friend Veronica “babysitting” on speakerphone.
But that wasn’t sibling rivalry.
And it definitely didn’t mean I didn’t want her around.
All I was doing was testing her mettle.
Can ya hang, little sister?
Can ya hang?
Conclusion … YES.
She can hang.
(Oh MAN can she hang!)
And the truth is…
The best thing that ever happened to me was the day you were born.
Happy 20th birthday, Gena!!
I love you soooooooo much.
(Now uh, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…)
M. = Mayur = peacock in Sanskrit.
And as a bonus fact, my adopted mother’s mother is named Sulochana — her father was Indian, her mother Swedish — and it is also my sister’s middle name. In Sanskrit it means bright eyes, and if you’ve ever gazed upon my Grandma Sulo’s or sister Gena’s beautiful faces, you would know how very accurate it is.
(Source: browndresswithwhitedots, via modernhepburn)
5 Seconds of Every #1 Billboard Hot 100 Hit From 1993-2011 (via librarianpirate et al)
Reblogging because this begins with the song that was #1 on the day my sister was born (aka her Popstrology song, aka one of the most incredibly important things about her, and anyone).
So, Gena…
This
is
your
life.
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