Number three is where my sister Molly falls in the family lineup. Three is also how old she is turning today—as in the big THREE-OH, as in yeah, she's 30.
Molly is gorgeous, she has a great boyfriend, she has a job that requires her to wear suits and carry business cards, and yet…
...she is not too old to ask for an American Girl doll for Christmas. This is Molly and her new friend Felicity, whom she received last year:
(Look! She went completely BLIND with joy!)
...she's not too old to do some serious damage to a good bottle of wine. Or even a bad one, for that matter.
...she is not too old to watch "Little House on the Prairie" videos, or burst into spontaneous song at any moment.
...she is not too old to go to a Liz Phair concert at First Avenue and yell from the crowd at the top of her lungs, “FUCK AND RUN!!!” (I’m pretty sure it was a song request.)
...and she’s not too old to want a little bit of sparkly bling on her birthday, in addition to a yellow cake with chocolate frosting.
Heaps and piles of love, and a big ‘ole Happy 30th Birthday to you, darling magical Millie. Aren’t you glad it’s not on Thanksgiving this year?