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il_430xN.65913514Our family has this sort of odd legacy of sisters being best friends. My mom and her only sibling, her sister, were best friends. Then Amy and I grew up as best friends. Now my two girls are following suit. I’m really not sure how it started with my mom and her sister and I’m also not sure how it started with us; I only know I love her.

As kids playing in the neighborhood, we’d get scared when the neighbor girls, another set of sisters, would scream and even hit each other. We’d run home and Amy would offer me her favorite Western Barbie that winked when you pushed the button in her back. And I’d hand over my puppy that did somersaults. I’d ask her if I could sleepover in her room. Most of the time she’d say yes.

In high school, she was the kind of girl who sat alone in the cafeteria while I flirted with boys and gossiped with friends but who wouldn’t hesitate to dump her lunch tray on guy who said something mean–cough, cough michael price cough, cough–I can’t even remember what it was and we’re facebook friends now, so apparently we all got over it.

I cried like a baby when Amy went to college. Three years later we ended up back together again when I joined her. I think it was at this point we vowed to live in adjoining homes with our husbands some day. Well, that didn’t happen, but the four of us sure do enjoy our time together up at the lakehouse.

What is the point of all this, you ask?  Well, partly I’m feeling sentimental and emotional, but partly I want you to check out her Etsy shop where she makes these cool little keepsake books for storing memories like the ones above. Also, if you are a digital scrapbooking kind of person or a sewing person or knitter or a collage kind of gal or if you like canning and gardening and reading or you have a peculiar desire for photographing your feet, then you will relate to her blog, Confessions.

P.S. She did not promise to pimp my novel some day in return. But, I’m open to that.

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