i suppose that most people look up to their older siblings.

but at least six inches taller than she, i find that looking up isn't literally a real possibility. unless, of course, she's wearing her stilettos.

i have been putting off writing the roast of -- i mean toast to -- my older sister for some time now. and it's only because encapsulating erica is a little like describing the simplicity of the quadratic equation. (negative b plus or minus the square root of the quantity negative b-squared minus four ac all over two a. but nonetheless ...)

just as my little brother reached the critical age of 20 (joshua tree) -- thereby involuntarily making his personal stories sharable to the general public through this forum of education -- last month, my sister also reached a significant milestone as far as my book is concerned: twenty-nine.

in essence, the three of us represent the epitome of the twenty-something decade: young, fresh blood. experienced, wiser blood ... and, well. just bleeding.

in addition to representing the over-the-hill-sector of the twenty-nothing experience, my sister's maturity (well, maturity is a debatable term) also serves to exemplify the segment of twenty-somethings approaching real adult-ery.

erica is a doctor. a doctor who dresses in pink juicy jumpsuits, ties her shoes using bunny ears, and skips when she walks. about a year ago, she and i were in a department store trying on the most skanky lingerie we could find (don't all sisters do that to waste an afternoon?), when she managed to find something sheer and skimpy, with two strategically placed tassels. after we finished convulsively laughing, she examined herself in the mirror.

"if my patient's knew that i woke up wearing this, do you think anyone would let me stick them with a needle or give them a rectal?" she asked me.

few situations in life leave me without a witty response. even fewer leave me speechless.

"looooook at me!" she hollered way louder than was appropriate for a department store dressing room while she performed some sort of dance move. "i'm a doctor!"

since then, her infamous "i'm-a-doctor" dance is only rivaled by the "i-see-your-nips" dance, the "welcome-to-our-house-kelly-and-josh" dance, and the "pre-interview warm-up" dance. i think she may even have a pre-surgery good luck dance -- but i just assume that all doctors do. the untrained eye probably can't distinguish between these intricate dance moves, but i assure you they are all unique. (**see picture below.)

and although i have felt the need to compensate for not being the pride of the family by pursing both a business and law degree, my sister reminds me that being a doctor does not necessarily mean that one can read a map, figure out how to use public transportation, or spell the word "second."

in fact, my sister might be able to shove a breathing tube down a patient's throat, but she often can't find her car in a parking lot.

(then again, pursuing a law and/or business degree does not necessarily mean that one can file her own taxes, return phone calls, or pronounce the word "asterisk.")

the abundance of pink in erica's wardrobe and her relationship with her manicurist have only been rivaled by reese witherspoon's character, elle woods, in legally blonde. in fact, erica's manicurist had better seats at my sister's medical school graduation than we (her family) did.

my sister snorts when she laughs. collects anything with a flower pattern. prefers to go braless. wears stilettos to the hospital (or pink tennis shoes). decorates her apartment with antiques anything that looks antique. and really likes sparkley things.

and nothing is more sparkely than a diamond ring. (well, maybe a tiara, but jewish princes -- outside the ones who think they're royalty because their jewish mothers have told them so -- are few and far between these days.) so she got engaged.

(actually, i must admit that i, too, like really sparkely things. but i'm thinking of getting a disco ball.)

part of erica's charm is her radiant smile, her golden-blonde-ever-changing highlights, and her compulsive anxiety; yet while her younger, taller, plumper sister fears the permanence marriage and the permanence of tattoos, erica fears neither.

she currently awaits the one of the two that is not a quarter inch pink heart on her lower left hip.

i guess that taking the plunge -- in marriage and in tattoos -- is part of the twenty-something transformation. we enter the decade as students: choosing between careers, exploring new relationships, and trying different sexual positions. and somewhere in between twenty and twenty-nine we choose a path, end/begin relationships, and figure out that when one put one's leg behind one's head, it really impresses people.

and for all my little older sister's quirks, i realize that for all which we don't share, there is more that we do have in common. and although under no circumstance do i like, buy, or care to incorporate flower patterns and antique crap into my living space, it might be that her greatest faults are the ones that bother me most because so many are my own. but probably not.

so maybe we're supposed to turn 30 with answers. or maybe we just learn to ask the right questions. or maybe having the right dance moves reminds us that no matter what age we are, maturity is overrated.



**i realize how difficult it is to imagine these so-called dances, so here is my little brother and his best friend, robby, demonstrating the "i-see-your-nips" dance. technical difficulties; coming soon.