1985: I was born in Panama City, Florida on the coldest day in Panama City history, Super Bowl Sunday, MLK's birthday and Inauguration Day. Dr. Muhammad delivered me whilst my mother was cheering the Dolphins in the bowl game. We hung out at PCB for ten months before moving to North Georgia. I made an early habit of long naps and thumb-sucking, earned a few teeth and learned to walk using one fantastically yellow and orange Fisher-Price grocery buggy. I was a fat baby.
1986: I spend the better part of this year as my sister's baby doll. In many photos of this time, I mostly resemble an oddly small transvestite or a dance extra from Olivia Newton John's Let's Get Physical music video. My mother's high heels were a very big part of my life.
1987: This was a big year for me, most notably because -- after much deliberation and thoughtful planning -- I adopt a premature baby girl from Cabbage Patch General Hospital. Her birth certificate said Isabelle, but I quickly changed her name to Olive, or more accurately, "Oluff" because of her olive green eyes. She was perfect, and I loved her as much as anyone could possibly love a glorified beanbag with a plastic head. I took her everywhere: weddings, funerals, preschool, swimming. Bless her heart. Also, this is the year I get in big trouble for stealing Easter eggs out of another little girl's Easter basket during the church egg hunt. I remember defending my actions by insisting that the little girl had abandoned her basket on the ground, and that someone had to take responsibility for all of those valuable eggs.1988: This is the year it stops being cute or funny that I pronounce the magazine as "mazzageen" and starts to concern my parents. This was a big year for trouble-making. For example, one afternoon, while banished to my room for perpetually repeating a curse word during Sunday school, I decide the stairwell leading to my bedroom needs a little artistic relief. I spend that afternoon, orange market in hand, outlining Monet's lily-pad landscape on the walls.
1990: Big year. HUGE. Most importantly, we got cable television. I distinctly remember sitting all-too-close to the massive television in our living room, and the first thing we watched was an episode of Popeye, followed by a Muppet Babies marathon. Also, I started kindergarten and got in all kinds of trouble. Oh, and this is also the year we got Snowflake, el diablo gato (1990-2008, RIP).
1992: Ah, the year I decided it would be a good idea for me to cut my own hair. And all of my Barbies' hair. All on the same day. Momma spanked me all the way up the stairs. I'll tell you all the hilarious story some day, but for now, as a general rule, please know that the air vent is a bad place to store all those tossed tresses. This is the year my grandfather remarried. Married a woman named Elizabeth. Elizabeth doesn't like music or Christmas lights, but she makes very good iced tea, or so I'm told. But she has her good points, too. For example, she loves the color blue. She has all of her own teeth. And she... well... she's tidy!
1993: THE BLIZZARD! We just moved into a new house (my grandparents' former house) about a minute and a half before the most incredible blizzard Georgia has ever known. Most years, we're lucky to get and inch or two of snow. But this year, feet of snow, I tell ya! Feet! We didn't go to school for like three weeks smack in the middle of March. We didn't have electricity for several days, and kept warm with kerosene. Mom took everything from the freezer and put it in the snow. We grilled a lot of hamburgers. I slept on a massive hot pink beanbag chair in the basement. It was maybe the best month of my life.
1994: Bubble suits! Anyone? Huh? Tell me the early 90s were completely spectacular. At this point in my life, everything had to do with makeup and shoes and hair bows and glitter and purple purple purple and painted fingernails. It was my transitional year, the year I put down the mud pies and picked up the streamered baton (and consequently broke quite a few valuables). Also, ShrinkyDink jewelry and my Easy Bake Oven were big factors in my life. This, coincidentally, is the year I very nearly burned down the house after trying to make cupcakes in my little oven. Back in the day, there was no fancy "automatic shut-off." You had to actually care whether the people in your house lived or died at your need for a quick sugar fix. How to Scare Daddy to Death: 101.1995: I studied for days to make a 100 on this test, and when I had finished it, I remember thinking, "Mission accomplished." The next week, our teacher let us know she had accidentally misplaced the tests. To make a long story short, I refused to take the test and decided to gather all of my classmates together and formed a union, of sorts. We staged a sit-in and halted class proceedings for like three hours before I was sent to the principal's office. A first of many organized triumphs that year.
1996: The year of the Atlanta summer Olympics! The whole state got a facel ift, including our small hometown. My father purchased a gray t-shirt with the Olympic emblem on the front, and some 14 years later, I'm almost certain he still has it. I remember feeling like I could take the world that year. But that's what the Olympics does -- it inspires. Georgia had never been so wonderful.
1997: This was not by best year. I'm just going to say it once and fast: I had a miserably horrendous haircut, braces, plastic glasses and thought clogs were a good idea. This is also the year I cheated on an Accelerated Reader test and felt so guilty, I ran into my parents' bedroom in the middle of the night screaming about being a cheater and going to Hell. Lesson. Learned.
