June birf-days.

Because I have been a negligent blogger and have recently discovered that I have missed out on the birthday ode trend here and here, I feel I must make up for my lack and pay tribute to those who came into this world in the month of June.

First, Koseli.

This picture pretty much sums up the way I feel about Koseli. She's cute, unbelievably sweet and looks great in a knitted poncho. She loves doll clothes, finger puppets, tiny tea sets and really fantastic music. When I call her and she answers the phone she starts laughing. When she calls me and I answer the phone she laughs even harder. The best thing you can do when you're around Koseli is to get her to laugh. When she laughs really hard she closes her eyes, throws her head back, and cackles. I think Koseli has always been a relief to those of us who don't tell the best jokes. I spent much of my childhood playing with Koseli. When we shared a room, her things were always organized and neatly folded; in my mind I can hear the radio playing some music from the 1950's as I watch Koseli carefully smooth out the sheets on the top bunkbed and place her beloved doll, Kirsten, carefully next to her pillow. When Koseli was in high school I used to sit on her bed and talk. Koseli always listened. She was always quick to laugh and willing to play a game of Uno. And most important of all, Koseli was nice, even when I was not. We had our fights. She said that she swore never to talk to me again at least one hundred times during our childhood. Nevertheless, here we are today. And I can safely say that she is one of the most influential people in my life.

Now Shirsti.

This is not a picture of Shirsti.
Shirsti is a human. But she didn't used to be.
She used to be a cat.
Perhaps the most wonderful thing about growing up with Shirsti is that she has the most enormous imagination I have ever beheld. Anything she imagines- any story she tells, any character she makes up- is real. When we were little I spent days with Shirsti as a Flying Lemur attempting to escape the notorious Billy Bob. On others we were geese flying to Canada and narrowly escaping resounding gunshots. In the fall she would make Koseli and me close our eyes as she took us through the Haunted Wood, a figment of all our imaginations that was simply terrifying.
Shirsti is my fellow comrade in loving all things fluffy and soft. When we were younger, Shirsti made up the most fantastic stories about our cat, Sam. According to Shirsti, Sam wasn't just any ordinary cat. She had a boyfriend (an imaginary guitar-playing Tomcat with a Spanish accent named Lufer, who was really just the August picture on one of my many cat calendars), a multitude of diseases (stinky eye, crisp ear, flat twazz) and the most ridiculous voice you've ever heard. Yes, she gave our cat a voice, and now whenever I think of Sam I think of her in that completely, utterly ridiculous and hilarious voice.
Shirsti astonishes everyone she meets. She's gorgeous, and seems rather intimidating. And then you talk to her and realize she's incredibly nice. And then you get to know her, possibly see her dance and realize she's crazy-- but only in the best way possible.

So here's to Shirsti and Koseli. I can't imagine better sisters than you.