Facts for June 19th 2011

1. I celebrated my 24th birthday on Friday, June 17th. It was the way you want to ring in a birthday. You wear a pretty dress. You have a quiet, but shenanigan-filled pub crawl, surrounded by good people and good booze. And if there be dancing, you move like you’re fluid. Like you’re freaking weightless.

2. I was born on June 18th, 1987 at 2pm. Somewhere in Houston, Texas. I came into the world with a sirens’ wail, my Mom said.

3. My father had a heart attack on the 18th. My brother tells me this via a series a text messages around 10am. Even though my Mom told him not to. Even though, my Mom called 8 that morning to sing me “Happy Birthday” per usual. Even though I thought the wavering in her voice came from me not being in Texas or me growing up or hell, me graduating from my Masters. Me, doing my own thing. I should have acknowledged the presence of we in her voice. I felt it.

4. Letting your friends take you to see Glee: Live on your birthday to distract you from the fact that your father had a heart attack, does in fact work. But it’s only temporary. And when Chris Colfer goes for that high note in “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” you have an odd sense of art imitating life.

5. Today is Father’s Day.


In Progress…

Every Sunday, the British man brings his two very British children to the bookstore.

“Alastair! Beatrice! Let’s look at the books while we wait for Mumsy?” he asks. Beatrice, 2, kicks off her little crocs and tugs on her father’s arm to leave. She has a slight aversion to books, but for the moment, entertains distraction with picture books on princesses and pretty dresses. Alastair’s five year old head barely goes over the counter when he asks me if we have anything on Maisy or dump lorries. He smiles like he has a secret.

I’m serious.

Someday, I want to be this family. I want to say “cupboard” instead of “closet.” I want to buy a jumper when it gets cold. I want to have seen Big Ben and the Statue of Liberty.

I think I’ve read too many Harry Potter books.


“Nobody likes you when you’re 23,” I say. Nine years ago, I greet my sister with Blink 182 lyrics on the morn of her birthday. I jump on her bed. I stick out my tongue. I am 14.

23 is a lot less funny now.

Hmm... the cake or the knife? Too much?