Mondays with Mariah

My Little Monkee is turning 30. I can hardly believe it. I am having some kind of strange emotional episode. For those of you that have not been blessed enough to meet her (and I feel bad for you!), Monkee is my younger sister Mandy. She is 8 years younger than me and she is the Gilligan to my Skipper, the Thelma to my Louise, the spaghetti to my meatballs. I have loved her since the moment I saw her sparkly little face behind the glass of the hospital nursery. Ever meet somebody and think to yourself, wow! that's someone special!

Monkee just has that effect on everyone she meets everywhere she goes.

Here we are celebrating Monkee's 9th birthday... 1989! I am 17 and rocking the acid washed jeans. Monkee hated this red striped outfit and is probably wearing it out of guilt.

That's my Heather Locklear-esque mother with the cake.

I loved being Monkee's big sister... long talks while she watched me put on my blue mascara in the bathroom mirror, answering all her questions about periods, boobs, and boys, trips to the mall for pepperoni pizza and a movie, and all the vacations with the fam. I watched her turn from a funny, clever, charismatic little monkee to a beautiful wife, mother and teacher. One day when were out for lunch at the Mattapoisett Chowder House, (the old stomping grounds) we saw these two old ladies (twin sisters) wearing stretch pants, sweatshirts and gold lamay (I know this is spelled wrong) hats and sneakers. They were driving a convertible red Firebird, and really yucking it up. We decided that would be us someday, (we'll probably out live the husbands) and then we can spend all of our time wearing matching outfits and driving around in an outrageous car. I can't wait! (No offense to our lovely husbands).
Happy 30th Birthday Little Monkee,
love your biggest fan...
Rhino