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our trek through the Pacific Northwest, cont.

My sister and I are an interesting mix of complete opposite and exactly alike. Cynthia couldn’t be more unlike me in general: she’s the oldest, I’m the baby; she’s a morning person, I’m a night owl; she piles up her stuff, I’m a neat freak; she loves animals, I’m allergic to them; she lives on a West Coast ranch, I live in an East Coast city; her husband wears a cowboy hat, my husband wears an LSU baseball cap; etc. etc. etc.

I’ve overheard others describe my sister as “salt of the earth,” a woman who would “give you the shirt off her back.” All true. And that’s not to say that I’m not a good person; I’m just likely to be eulogized by completely different phrases — by the exact same people. See? Exactly the same, and completely different.

I like to say I got my blue eyes from my sister: she confessed to me once that she sat by my crib the first few months of my life (she was 9 years old when I was born) and prayed that my eyes would stay blue — that way, she’d be the only one with Dad’s brown eyes.

My two oldest nephews were at camp during our visit, so it was up to their little brother to show us the ropes. He taught my daughter where to hold her index finger while walking with a loaded gun and he introduced my son to John Wayne. Our trip to visit Aunt Cynthia and Uncle Dan was a summer highlight for each one of us:

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