dirty birdy, Marissa is thirty.

Wish I could take credit for the lovely flamingos, but I can't.


The first birthday party of Marissa's I attended was twenty years ago. Though I started in September, I still felt like the new student at her sleepover, awkward and shy. Since I had never been to her house before, she tried to convince me she had a sister (why??) and that there was a civil war soldier buried within her family room walls. Those were the days of innocence before sneaking out and stealing sips of wine coolers became common place.