A photographic memory, on Sally's birthday

Sally would have been 69 today -- almost 70! It's hard to believe.

Her birthday got me thinking about a mother's best quality: she knows exactly who you are. Down to your core, every ounce of your being, she's got you pegged. Whether you're sensitive, stubborn, a do-gooder... even though she may encourage you to adjust your behavior ("Oh, Missy, you just need to have a thicker skin"), she knows it's of no real use. You are who you are.

In ninth grade, my friend Heather took a photography class and asked me to be her model. I immediately said yes. (Having spent 90% of my teenage years practicing pouts and smiles for my imaginary Seventeen magazine cover shoot, I felt very prepared.) My favorite shots she took were of me with heavy eyeliner, wearing a vintage fur coat that had belonged to my Grandma Rose (my mom's mom) and looking very serious. I felt so glamorous.

When I showed the shots to my mom, she flipped through and said, "This one's my favorite." I felt sure it was the same one I liked. Wrong. This one was of me wearing a plaid collared shirt and jean overalls, with my hair in a ponytail and no makeup, smiling and staring straight into the camera.

"Mom, that's the one you like best?" I asked. "I look like a farmer!"

"No you don't," she said. "You look just like yourself."

I remember that now, as I think about how I want to look on my wedding day. With options for hair extensions, airbrush makeup, and big poofy gowns -- or even something as simple as a suggestion to dye the gray out of my hair -- I try to explain to people: "No, I just want to look like me."

A very happy birthday celebration

Hi everyone!

Yesterday was my birthday. What a happy day!

I spent my work day doing a video shoot for Prevention.com. It's a new cooking series that stars Prevention magazine's editor-in-chief. I write the scripts, buy and prep all the food, and direct the shoot. It's exhausting and exhilarating. My favorite moment was when our editor-in-chief shook a margarita on-camera... and forgot to hold the top of the cocktail shaker. Let's just say Tequila was in the air! (Click here to see a clip of me starring in a video about avocados.)

Work was also accompanied by a party my coworkers threw me, Dunkin' Donuts and beautiful sunflowers included. So sweet!

After work, I headed out with Mark and a handful of friends to see the Brooklyn Cyclones, a minor league baseball team that plays out in Coney Island. From the stadium, you can see the beach, The Cyclone, and the Wonder Wheel (Coney Island's main attractions). I don't think I watched even one full inning of the game. I was too busy chatting with friends, dancing to the pop music being blasted, and finding some reason to laugh.

I really felt so happy yesterday. Things just seem in place and as they should be. Sometimes this makes me nervous, like if I make any sudden movements everything could change. But then I try to tell myself that life has to keep moving and changing, and all I have to do is enjoy the ride. (After all, I'm only 27!).

Do you think happiness is just a frame of mind and we could find it anytime we want, or is happiness based on outside circumstances going on?

February 22: It's Mom's birthday today

Today's sort of a special episode of Sally's Circle. It's February 22, a date that means a lot to me and my family. It's Sally's birthday.

Of all the holidays that remind me of Mom, her birthday is one of the hardest. Birthdays are super-happy celebrations in my family. We always go out to dinner, give cards and presents, and blow out candles. It's a time for family and togetherness and laughter. It's strange to feel sad on a holiday that was always so happy.

So, on February 22, I often can't help but imagine what we would do today if Mom were still alive. Maybe I'd go home to Long Island to go to Tofu, Mom's favorite Chinese restaurant. Or maybe Mom and Dad would have a new favorite restaurant in Long Island. Or maybe since Jordan (my bro) and I both live in the city now, Mom and Dad would drive in to Manhattan and we'd try someplace new. It would definitely be the 4 of us. Or maybe Mom would ask if Mark wanted to come, too, and he'd say yes because he liked her so much and thought she was so funny. Dinner would be filled with trading hilarious stories and Mom would probably say something flirty to the cute waiter, and I'd feign total embarrassment, and then later brag to all my friends about how she gets more and more ridiculous every year.

Tomorrow I will go home to Long Island. My dad, brother, and I have a tradition where we go to the cemetery together on her birthday (we also go in August on the anniversary of when she died). We spend a little time there, anywhere from a few minutes to 20 minutes or so. We talk about how old she'd be now (65 -- shh, don't tell her I told you), the things she liked (teaching, the Gap, Seinfeld), the things we miss (her stories, her laugh). Sometimes we remember the funeral or sitting shiva or nice things other people said about her. We debate whether this year it feels like she's been gone a long time or short time (after all, what is 6 years?). I usually spend most of the time talking to Mom in my head, telling her what's going on in my life and imagining her responses. Before we leave, Dad says "We miss you" and makes sure we all hug. He's such a good dad.

After the cemetery, we go to a diner and eat lunch. At lunch, we don't usually talk about Mom or the past. We talk about the present: Jordan's real estate business, my job or how Mark's doing, dad's girlfriend Susan, recent things in the news, etc. It's general, comfortable, run-of-the-mill talk. And I think it's usually good for all of us to just spend time together without necessarily dwelling on the birthday. After all, that's what the cemetery was for. I think we get most of it out there.

So, with the Saturday Night Live closing music buzzing from my living room TV, I'll also bid you goodnight. Wish me luck tomorrow, but don't worry about me. I think it'll be OK.

Do you have any traditions that bring you comfort? How do you feel about going to the cemetery? Do you feel like that person is there, or not really?