I’m now three days overdue with my birthday post to the gorgeous and talented Amy, who closed the book on her twenties on Tuesday. Welcome to ThirtiesWorld, Amy… it’s really pretty rockin’ up in here. I’m digging it way more than I did my 20s, and I hope it’s good to you.
I distinctly remember the first night I really hung out with Amy — coincidentally enough, it was the night of ther 21st birthday. (Well, honestly, I’m not positive it was the exact day of her birthday, but her 21st was certainly the impetus for our going out.) I’d kind of known her, or at least known of her, for a couple of months; she’d been dating a buddy of mine at the college newspaper we worked at, and she was pretty damn noticable around campus anyway: the massive fall of curly, crayon-red hair made missing her difficult. But that night was the first time I actually started getting to know her. We all (and by all, I seem to remember somewhere around 20 people being involved in festivities) crowded into the Ruby Tuesday in Cordova Mall in Pensacola, and then some subset of us made our way down to Sluggo’s to get our asses rocked by Frogpond. Honestly, I don’t even remember anything I might have said to Amy or vice versa from that night, but I distinctly remember that night being when she graduated in my eyes from “the chick with the rockin’ hair” to “Amy.”
So Happy Birthday to Amy: good friend, great mom, gifted writer, and all-around cool chick. And the hair might not be crayon-red anymore, but it’s still pretty rockin’.
(Also a big, big Happy Seventh (OMGWTF) B’day to Amy’s older daughter, whose birthday was on Wednesday — bless them both for making the dates of their birthdays easy to remember!)