Today is Sister #2’s birthday. Don’t cry for her too much about having a birthday over-shadowed by Christmas, because it is not. All of us have shitty birthdays. I’d say Sister #3’s January 3rd birthday is the shittiest.

First, when my mom walked in for A Very St. Martin Christmas tonight she tried to claim that if she hadn’t given Sister #2 a birthday hondo, then she’d totally be able to buy a gift better than the one I gave her. My mom made this claim without even knowing what my gift was. False bravado and bold, unsupported claims run deep in my family.

For my beloved younger sister’s birthday I framed for her a page from my 1986 journal. It is a page that has lived in infamy for lo these 32 years. For many years, probably since I showed her a picture of the page back in the early aughts, Sister #2 has been asking for this page of my journal.

This year, I finally got off my duff, dug around in the chest of broken dreams and forgotten memories and dug out that notebook filled with pink paper and purple writing. Then I framed it.

Obviously the best gift ever. #whatadick