So, since she hasn't read this yet and called to yell at me, I'm going to continue talking about my Sister until she DOES read and DOES call.

Which actually brings me to my first point: Rebecca, I'm still older than you. Quit bossing me around. I can tell everyone (which is like, two people, really) how cool I think you are if I want to. And there's no sense crossing your arms at me or giving me that look. Really. Stop it.

See, she's my YOUNGER sister, thank you very much. As in, I'm OLDER than she is. But just because she's used to telling her kids what to do, she thinks she can tell ME, too. Well, pfffft. Nothing doing. You can punch me in the arm all you want, kiddo. Oh...that's right! You CAN'T punch me from way over here, can you? HA! So nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah to you as I tell everyone all about how I love your goofy self.

Which is point two: Rebecca is goofy. Really goofy. Like, like...green things. She won't eat green things. Green beans, peas, green peppers...etc. No one knows why. But she'll eat mint chocolate chip ice cream which, I'm sorry to break it to you, Rebecca, is GREEN! But try to point this out to her, and she'll cross her arms and stomp her feet because...

Point three: Rebecca is ornery. Obstinate. Stubborn. Call it what you will. (I personally like the term brat.) Like, like...when she was little. She couldn't say the word perfect. Well, let me correct that. She wouldn't say the word perfect. What would she say, you wonder? How about per-feck. And no matter how many times we told her that the word had a T on the end of it, she would just grin that evil little grin and refuse to say it. She'd always say,"that's how I say it." Why does this make me laugh now? Because earlier in the year, her son was saying a word and mispronouncing it. I don't even remember what word it was. But she told him, she ACTUALLY told him that's not the way you say it. I've told you that before. Say it right. And he's all, "that's how I say it, mom." And then she's all well, it's not right, so say it right. At this point, I just turned and looked at her, eyebrows through my hairline, chin on the floor, and HAD to remind her of her little deal with the word perfect. To which, of course, she responds, that's different.

Point four: Rebecca is evil. Like, like...she loves to torture her husband. (Hi, R!) He had this rather unfortunate health thing earlier this year. Nothing really serious, mind you. Just, you know, unfortunate. And my dear sister teased him unmercifully. Still does. And then--oh, yeah, and THEN he had this other thing happen to him. He kind of got stuck in this thing. And Rebecca, of course, HAD to tell me about it. (And I'm sorry, R, it WAS pretty funny!) But anyway, a few days later, we were sitting with my aunt and uncle and grandmother and aunt's sister and cousin...well, you get the idea, and she let R think that she was going to tell this particular story to everyone. And while it's pretty darn funny (sorry, R, it is!), it's not really the kind of story you'd want your wife telling her aunt and uncle and grandmother and aunt's sister and cousin. Ever. But most especially not while you are standing right there. Oh, how she laughed when he jumped up and all but did jumping jacks to keep her from telling that story...which she, of course, had no intentions of telling, anyway. See? Evil.

Point five: Rebecca has the best laugh on the planet. Like, like...hearing her laugh brings such a smile to my face. Even the thought of her laughing makes me happy. And she loves to laugh. She's not stingy at all. She'll even be on the receiving end of a teasing joke and poke fun at herself. She just makes everyone around her smile and love life.

Point six: Rebecca is pretty patient. Like, like...she hasn't killed any of us yet. She's got her kids and her husband and her sisters and her husband's family all pulling and tugging on her and screaming ME ME ME at the top of our lungs at her. And we all want a piece of her. And me? I want a really big piece. And I'm selfish and demanding and intrusive and call her ALL THE TIME to ask her how many breaths of air she's taken since I talked to her last. But she just goes about her business and tries to make it seem like it's easy for her to get dressed 'cause I just drug her out of the shower and cook dinner and help with homework and put the kids to bed and do laundry and K, my husband just said that if I don't get off the phone now, it's going to be a threesome 'cause we've been on the phone for five days all with the phone attached to her ear. And for some reason, she still answers when I call. Well, most of the time!

Point seven: Rebecca loves with her whole heart. Like, like...her family. She just loves us. And she makes sure that we all know it. All the time.

And I just want to go on and on. Because she's all that's good in a person. She'll make you want to laugh and then want to pull your hair out and then give you the biggest bear hug and then look at you from those melted-chocolate eyes and you find yourself agreeing to things that you never thought you would just to know that you made her happy even for an instant. Because seeing a smile on her face is having something be right with the world. And knowing that you're the one who put the smile there...well, that's knowing that you've done something worthwhile. I love her. I love that smile that is my own yet different. I love those eyes that are, really, just ridiculously large and beautiful and are framed by eyelashes that I still vow to take a pair of scissors to. I mean, did you really HAVE to hog all the eyelashes, Rebecca?! Are we supposed to be totally fooled by them and not notice that it's really just the devil gleeming out at us from beneath them?!

To my younger sister, my evil twin of a sister, may all happiness in life be yours. (And may you please not hurt me for writing this.) I love you.