My sister has a birthday today. She is two years older than I, but we grew up playing together, reading together, even making up stories together. (At one point we decided to write our own romance. But we didn't have the age or experience to create an occupation for our leading man, Doug Hamilton; ultimately, after rejecting many equally ridiculous options, we made him a director of a home for the fat and insane. Hey, we were about ten and twelve.)
Now she teaches kindergarten and raises her own three children with her husband Kevin, a Chicago cop. Naturally Kevin is a resource I tap into quite often when I'm in writing mode.
Linda and I also had our own extensive library of Nancy Drew books. When we outgrew them we donated them all to the local library, but sometimes I feel greedy and wish we had kept them. But maybe I'm just trying to reclaim the memories.
My family are all being sports about helping to promote my book, and Linda has been wonderful about watching my children when I have booksignings (some of which were discussed on this blog).
But she's just a great sister in general. Happy Birthday, Linda! Eat some chocolate cake.