See? See what I live with? A sister, fueled by love, powered by guilt. And not the more subtle version of New-York-Jewish-momma-figure-it-out-if–you-dare-deep-sigh-psychological kind. My sis goes for the I'm–gonna-post–it –for-the-world–to-see kind. The ignore-it-if-you-can, but-I'll-get-other-people-to-do-it-for-me kind.

Hahahah, Sis! Bravo! My agent, my nemesis, my worthy opponent, my greatest advocate, my beloved sister.


To hear us recall our childhoods, you would think we were raised in different families, but for all of our many differences, there are still so many things I patterned myself after because she was my big sis, my model, my mentor. She worked on Grandma Gaganon's farm, I worked on Grandma Gagnon's farm. She preferred jeans over dresses, I preferred jeans over dresses. We had treks to the beach to bake in the sun with Baby Oil, even over our soft Irish skin (oof, that's gonna leave a mark). She listened to and therefore I learned an appreciation for music, both classic and obscure. My Christmas' must now include a drive to see the lights on houses, as I remember she and I doing so while singing Christmas carols. And mostly, the absolute love and connection of a sister. To know in the world there is someone who will pick up the phone before it rings, who knows you so well, that she can finish your thoughts. She embodies a love so real it is palpable, a kind most people can only imagine and the rest of us to strive towards. And if you are one of the fortunate people to have crossed her path favorably, consider yourself truly blessed, you've been given a gift like none other.

And then she will nail you down with a request for a date to go play, and if you waffle, she will badger and needle you until you give in! Hahaha! She wins. She always did.