Z is for Zache.

Zache is my maiden name. Isn't the word "maiden" awful? Try to say it with a smiling face. Ok, try to say it without twisting your face into a weird ugly mess. You can't do it, can you? No, because it's a weird word. Like "Bunsen burner." I prefer "my original last name."

Moving on.

Growing up I was the classic older sister. Most of the time I was mean and made them do stuff for me - like "just find the remote." Somehow these people actually still like me - or they've just grown to like me - as I have them.

Last Saturday, we spent the morning together - had breakfast, went to Art vs. Craft and then decided to watch painfully lame girly movies all day. Later that day, I felt like a truck had rolled over my face - a wonderful precursor to getting sick. I couldn't move off of the couch and forced my sister to make her own dinner (guess some things never change). She wasn't phased and most likely thought this was a normal Saturday night at the Atkinson residence.

I turned the corner from "getting sick" to "I'm siiiccckkkk" - I was spouting off things that I thought might make me feel better. Every five minutes one of these little "nuggets of wisdom" were shared with whoever was still tolerating my overly-dramatic sick self: "I need warmer jammies! That pizza smells bad. Can someone rub my back? Do we have Advil. I need to shower! Where's Harper? That JC Penny commercial is too red!"

What a wonderful night for my sister, who visits about once a year.

Well, she was a trooper and we ended up sharing a few stories and laughing a bit the next morning. I'm really thankful this month for so many things - but finally, I'll wrap it up with being thankful for my wonderful Zache sisters.