a million moths.

and this is jenny. three months before the wedding, basking in its glow. eight years i’ve known the girl and i’ve never seen her this happy, this at peace. quite impressive, mr. pashman. quite impressive for sure. 

like a sparkler on the fourth of july, luminous and shiny. that’s what she is. la gran chispa. and today she turns the big 2-4. happy, happy birthday, chica! i am here and you are there and it’s a wednesday. but really, if you think about it, it’s a saturday (the start of a four-day weekend) and you are in santa barbara, 1,500 feet above the sea, in an air ballon as radiant as that scarf you love to wear. you’re dancing in the giant basket and singing your favorite pop song so loud even the seagulls are collapsing mid-flight. (girl, en serio. have you ever considered humming? or perhaps whispering? i think whispering might not be so bad because then that weird thing you do with your throat might … wait a second. where was i? right. it’s your birthday.) and so you’re in the basket and when you look out down below, as far as your brown eyes can see, the hills and valleys are blooming with hot boyfriends, frosty cupcakes and free home furnishings. imagine that and have a beautiful day. 

when michelle tells you she’s going out, she ain’t messing around. three hours of prep time on a friday night: hair dryer, hair straightener, curling iron and hairspray. shimmer and glitter and gloss spread like fairy dust across the bathroom counter. the hip hop blares from the boom box. the cell phone rings every five minutes. she tries on one thing. then another. and another. each outfit shorter and tighter than the last. “does this look good?” … “what do you think about this?” and then, for last, she saves the heels. holy smokes, the heels. she slips on four-inch stilts that send her on her way, teetertottering down the stairs and into the night.

she is selling chocolates (yet again) for school. this time $5 easter eggs stuffed with buttery badness and baby chicks wrapped in pastel colored boxes. she skips toward you as you step through the door. big cheeks blazing, she flashes her doughy brown eyes and brand new, crooked teeth until you’re so captivated by all her pinkness you don’t stop to notice the sign-up sheet and pencil tucked behind her back. she hugs you and says you look beautiful. she tells you, “you’re my favorite” and “you’re the best” and “how come you always know everything?” the whole time you know what the kid is doing, but you break down and give her what she wants, because how can you possibly say no?

the cool cousin. and his cool girlfriend, katrina.