17 January 2008
Today is January 17. On this day in history: Wanda Louise was born. Now you might wonder why this is important. It's urgent because I have something imperative to do that I have done every year of my life since I was first able to talk. I gotta call Wandy and let her know that she is decidedly over the hill.
Once upon a time, she wasn't so elderly. That's her on the right and me on the left with her mother, my Aunt Helen, in between. It was summer so we were the same age, but she got to be that age six weeks before I did, which is why she is so elderly today and I won't be an equally ancient crone until March 2. At the end of WWII our mothers were living together while our fathers were busy elsewhere. They teased about having twins, but my mom never did anything as arranged unlike her definitely more well behaved older sister, and for going on 64 years as only children in our respective families, Wanda and I have been like sisters.
Therefor in honor of being almost sisters, and me being the baby (gotta love me), I get to make her life an unrelieved hell and she forgives me because, once again, I'm the baby (gotta love me). So this morning I will call her before any decent person has opened their eyes to the light of day. She will groan as we immediately slip into all the aggravations and hilarities of the past 64 years (except for the first six weeks while she was getting older by the second that I missed because I'm the baby and you have to love me).
Happy birthday Wandy. May you always and forever be older than I am because January 17 wouldn't be any fun at all without you.