"I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at." (Maya Angelou)
I have one sister, Amy, who is 13 months younger than I. So she has known me my whole life, except for those first 13 months! I know it sounds trite to say she's my best friend, but she is. When we were growing up, I was the "smart one," and she was the "pretty one." When we got older, I learned she was pretty darn smart herself, and I got slightly better looking! Now my husband calls her "the nice Schlumpf sister," so I guess you can see we've been compared to each other our whole lives.
Here's what I admire about her: her intelligence, integrity and political commitment; her loving attitude toward her family; her three wonderful children; her compassionate way of listening; her generosity; and the fact that she laughs at everything I say, mistakenly leading me to think I'm funny. Her faults? The only one I can think of is that she can be messy. But when she gets to organizing, stand back! She's a maniac with that labeler I gave her a few years ago.
So I started out this "Encyclopedia of Me" by talking about someone other than me, but Amy is so much a part of who I am that it seems right. So, "A" is for Amy.
The other day, I read about the World's largest yarn stash at Mochimochi's blog, but I have my own scary stash story to share. Two weekends ago, my mom and I went to a rummage sale in at a home on their lake in Wisconsin. It was mind-boggling. This woman had died, and apparently they had already removed nine dumpsters of stuff. At the garage sale they were selling her craft supplies, which filled an entire garage and yard. Seriously, she had more stuff than some Michael's stores.
My mom took this picture of the fabric pile (which covered a 2-by-8 foot table and was about 2 feet high) with her camera phone, so pardon the poor quality. Apparently this was just a small portion of the fabric. She had a huge box of probalby 200 glue sticks, then another box of hundreds of smaller glue sticks. She had four or five banquet-sized tables piled with silk flowers. Clearly this woman had a shopping problem. She would buy things by the dozens or even the gross.
This scared the bejesus out of me, as I have a tendency toward pack-rat-ism. But I still bought some Holly Hobbie wrapping paper, a whole box of trim, and an old game. My mom and I both noticed that it seemed like knitting was the only craft she didn't do. Thank God, or her yarn stash would have been tempting!