My dear sister Liz moved back down to Provo this fall to conquer business school. And I love it. She is always calling us up to see if we want to go climbing, ride bikes, explore a new trail she found, help her eat peanut M&Ms, and other delightful things. She tells me that I am cute, fun, and smart (I can never have to many sources of those kinds of comments). Every time we meet up she makes me feel like I am the greatest thing that walked into her life that day.
Case and point: Last Thursday was Liz's birthday, for which a party was thrown at her apartment. Liz planned the menu complete with sugar-snap peas, peppers, hummus, and peanut M&Ms. She invited over 50 friends. The place was filled with people whom I had never met, but who all thought Liz was one awesome lady (I agree). When they found out that I was her sister they would tell me how much they liked her. They told me that she was nice, fun, and adventurous. But mostly they told me that she was great.
And for the record, I completely agree.