Today is the day of… Morrigan’s birthday!
She is 37 today.
Holy crap. My little sister is 37. Gah!
She’s the funny one in the family. For those who have just started reading within the last year, whenever my sister comes to visit, there is great blog fodder. I think she came one Easter to visit and I had a frickin’ post for every damn day. Here, Here, and Here are just a few samples. (When saved in archive format, funky symbols appeared.)
She’s a riot. She’s big energy in a little bitty body. Well. Parts of her body are not so little bitty. But mostly, she is. Heh. She has a lot of hair.
She’s the anti-Bou. I’m tall, she’s short. (Well, comparatively. I’m 5’2. She’s 5’.) She’s curvy and I’m shaped like a tree. She’s got reddish hair, although sometimes it’s blondish and one time it was blackish, and I’m always mousy brown. She’s got hazel eyes, mostly green, and I have gray.
She is the color version of me… if that makes sense. I’m like the Wizard of Oz movie before they get to Oz, black and white. Morrigan is all that comes with Oz…all the color. She is a beautiful person… inside and out.
And as she put in the comments to one of my posts, a comment that cracked me up, she sits on my rock. (Ref my always saying I live under a rock.) She is the hip and with it both fashionably and societally to my...umm... not so much.
Where as some people have said to me when they meet me in person having been reading me, that I am not what they expect, because on-line I can be extroverted and funny, in person I am… not so much, Morrigan is all that is on my blog. It is like I channel her when I blog.
(I am gunshy about meeting people now… I have had a few people say to me, ‘You aren’t what I expected’ with another person adding, “I expected you to be… funnier.” Ahhh… I hate to disappoint, but in real life I’m not so… extroverted. I live in my head.)
I will say, when with Morrigan, I can play off her wit, and I am much more at ease when she’s around. I come out of my shell more.
Morrigan is the funny, extroverted, beautiful Celt. She was the child that was born unexpectedly... the first baby ever born in NAS Mayport housing. TGOO delivered her. That should have been a clue...
There was the time she was convinced the meat man at our Publix thought she was my daughter.
And then the time I read that you can meet men through cycling (back when I was on a mission to find her a man, before she met her wonderful husband) and she decided that instead she would take a spin class at the gym. I did a big *blink* on that one. The key is... she can't ride a bike.
Oh and then the time she decided to donate her hair to Locks of Love and that if ‘we’ entered this writing contest, ‘we’ might win a trip to NYC. She knew ‘we’ would win. The ‘we’ being, ‘I’ would do the writing. I was scared to death. Luckily, a bad dye job turned her hair jet flat black and we were out of the game.
Oh and the stories I cannot even post.
She’s a nut.
We love her dearly. And we’re so happy we found a man who loves her as much as we do.
Happy Birthday, Mo. May there be many many more than another 37!
I'm the one on the right... the bigger older one. Heh.Posted by Boudicca at February 10, 2008 06:38 PM | TrackBack