The 5 Phillips femmes

"You're seeing a rare event," my dad always informs people. "All of the girls together at once." Inevitably, he announces this a few times before the evening is over, a note of pride in his voice. And often, a hint of a tear in his voice as well. He adores having all girls. As a word of warning, if you are ever over for dinner with the entire family, the "rare-ness" of the evening will be impressed upon you, too. Even if you don't care. Even if you don't comment on it. It doesn't matter.

As a group, we are insane. Giggles ring through the house, though we're often not sure what's so funny. Or at least, we won't be able to explain it. We are just sisters; we share funny bones as well as parents. "I'm going CWISMAS CWAZY!!!" Kate yells, flailing about and tossing her hair like a rock star before collapsing on the floor. The rest of us can barely breathe for laughter, and we watch the video of her performance over and over (thanks to the advances in digital cameras, Cwismas Cwazy will live on in infamy!). Countless times throughout our week together, you can find us in a lump, piled on top of each other on a couch. Somtimes chatting, but mainly just enjoying being close.

Right now, Heather and I are sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch in the den, laptops open. She's reading columns on Townhall.com and chatting on IM. I'm writing this entry. We are the geeks of the group--she's a computer science major at Georgia Tech, so I adamantly proclaim that she's the premier geek, though I can't deny that I make my living with my computer. Heather takes no crap. She's a tough cookie who might very well intimidate me if we weren't related. But she's become a true friend over the past year, especially since we share an intense love for swing dancing, and I miss her fiercely when I'm away.

Kate has "popular cooties," as my dad likes to say. She can do anything, no matter how dorky, and somehow remain cool. Just the other day, she ordered bagles at Panera with a lisp, on a dare from a coworker. "Thix bagelth with a thmear, pleath...Yeth, that'th good." Smile. I wouldn't be surprised if the cashier wanted to ask for her phone number anyway. Who can explain popularity? You either have it or you don't. And Kate does.

Madeleine is truly an angel. She'll give you the shirt off her back then crochet you a scarf if you're still cold. Every request at dinner--"Could someone get me the hot sauce?"--has an implied "Madeleine" following it. And she always complies without complaint. She takes out the trash, washes the dishes, is number one in her high school class, and dances like a dream. Like I said, she's an angel.

And then there's my momma. What a perfect match she is for my father. Even though she and my dad married long before they became Christians, watching them together reminds me of how God works everything for good. She is fiesty, yelling at the guests on Fox News shows, sighing in disgust over columns in the AJC. She is mild, holding her tongue when one of us snaps at her, and completely diffusing the situation in the process. She is wise, my little momma, and I would gladly accept her offer of a "core dump," a concept she has dreamed up where she could simply funnel all her life experiences and the knowledge of 55 years into my thirsty brain. I'd be unstoppable!

So there we are, all 5 of us. I'm assuming you know me, so I'll spare you the details. I have been blessed with a dear family. Dad's another entry all together (not in a bad way). This one's devoted to the ladies in my life. Take a good long look--after all, it's a rare event.