Happy birthday to my sister, who:

* Laughs like Cruella DeVille. (It’s true!)
* Taught me how to apply eye make-up, style my hair, shave my legs, etc.
* Lets me call her crying at 2 a.m., and cries with me on the phone.
* Buys me cute girly I.N.C. brand shirts and badass biker chick studded belts.
* Calls me 30 minutes into a second date to ask how it’s going. (Incidentally, that was my 2nd date with Dave, so it was going quite well, thank you very much.)
* Is one of the funniest people I know (and gets even funnier after her 2nd glass of wine).
* Addresses animals in an even higher-pitched baby voice than I am capable of (and I’m pretty squeaky).
* Has bailed me out of more than one financial crisis.
* Broke in my parents first, so I got away with more stuff (getting my ears pierced at 9, rather than 13, was a BIG deal).
* Used to help me chase & catch gclark so I could kiss him when I was in lurve with him. (I think I was 4 or 5 years old at the time, and for the record, gclark’s two sisters also helped with the chasing and catching; poor guy was helplessly outnumbered).
* Calls & wakes me up early on weekend mornings to ask me my shoe size because she was at a street market in Manhattan, and they had these adorable little china girl slippers, and they only cost $4, so she’s going to buy some & send them to me but she needs to know my shoe size first, so what is it? (Actual conversation.)
* Is one of those types of people who you want to hate because she’s smart, successful and beautiful, but you can’t because she’s just so damn nice.

…and too many other things to mention. Happy birthday, Tracy!