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[about the author]

i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish, eh?

i work crossword puzzles in ink.

i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie izzard. can't decide, really.

i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really good aunt.

i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.

i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.

i never play dumb. never.

i am way too hard on myself.

i am a change agent.

i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.

i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.

i am militantly pro-choice.

i am pro-adoption.

i know a little bit about alot of things.

i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.

i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it. hard.

i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.

i have been known to hold a grudge.

i have hips.

i am not my sister.

i am lousy at forgiving myself.

i am an indoor kind of gal.

i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.

i am 32 flavors. and then some.

[the ones people ask about]
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Investment Banking Monkey
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Latest on Retirement Planning
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[in case you were wondering]

[the blogger behind the curtain]

[100 things about me]

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[all content copyright 2007 by tequila mockingbird. seriously.]


riding home together

"you may not remember the time you let me go first. or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn't that far to go. or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up. you may not remember any of those, but i do and this is what i have to say to you: today, no matter what it takes, we ride home together." --- brian andreas

as i've said before, my sister and i are a study in opposites.

my sister is sunshine and light.

not a sarcastic bone in her body.

she's statuesque.



green eyes.


a killer rack.

hips but no thighs.

it's all a bit...irritating.

this weekend, we stood side-by-side in front of the mirror in the master bathroom of her house.

"okay," she said, "see if we have any feature in common."

we both stared for a few moments in silence.

"eyes?" she asked.

"not even close."


"you wish."

"okay, how about...ears?"

we pulled our hair back and turned to the side.

"no," we said in unison.

after my niece was born, my little sister zipped right back down to her pre-pregnancy weight. and then she kept right on zipping.

when i got home for a long holiday weekend filled with deviled eggs and s'mores, i noticed that her stomach was perfectly flat. no sign that the adorable toddler toddling around had ever been inside that perfectly flat tummy.

as we lounged in the hot tub catching up, she took her long blonde hair down from its clip.

and a handful of it came out.

"oh my god!"

"i know. i know."

"what the hell is going on?"

"well...i'm sort of sick. we think."

my sister is a nurse practicioner, and her husband a doctor. i knew that, if they think she's sick...she's sick.

"what is it?"

i was getting more than a little dizzy, and i was sure it had more to with my sister's serious face than the vodka and high water temperature.

"well, it's this," she said and she leaned her head back, arching her long beautiful neck so i could see it.

about the size of an egg.

on the right side.

my stomach knotted.

"it's on my thyroid. it's why i've been losing so much weight. it's why your boobs are finally bigger than mine," she laughed.

"but what is it?"

"we don't know yet. won't know until they finish running some tests next week. i have no idea how long it's been there...maybe since the baby was born. right after that, my bloodwork came back like i had leukemia. so, they worked me up for leukemia. but, it turned out to be a false alarm. maybe it was this....whatever this is."

"what do you think it is?"

"it's either something called hashimoto's syndrome...or it's cancer."

"but what do you think it is?"



i couldn't breathe.

and, suddenly, all those years of fighting and beating and tormenting faded away. in their place all i could see were the years since then. the years in which we've come to understand and appreciate each other. the years we've supported one another unconditionally. the years in which we finally became sisters.

she's only 28 years old. she's beautiful and vibrant. she's the mother of an amazing two-year-old. she's the wife of the nicest man i've ever met. she's my little sister.

i know all about cancer. i know all about recovery and the amazing ability of the human body to come back from what seemed to be certain destruction. i know all about it, really, i do. and i'm perfectly willing to be optimistic. and supportive. and positive.

but if those tests come back positive for a malignancy, i will tear the goddamn world down with my bare hands.
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