Karen the Good

I believe I have mentioned here before, that my little sister is sweeter and prettier and smarter than I. She is also much taller. I honestly don't begrudge her any of that (though I wouldn't mind having that extra vertebrae she was found to have.)
We've never really jealous of each other. Not since we were adults, anyway.
We fought like cats and dogs as children. I once pierced her ear while we were setting the dinner table by throwing a fork at her. There are any number of things that by today's standards would at least be  considered the acts of a juvenile delinquent. The only trouble we got into, really, was with our folks.
I often say we were raised in a litter. We ate off each other's plates and finished each other's sentences. The two of us and our darling baby sister were all born within five years of each other. I am the eldest. I am also the shortest and the one who most often seems to need the help and support of the others. Take the example of the picture above. The middle sister was fixing me before any more family/group pictures could be taken. She rearranged things for me and got me ready to be photographed. That is just the kind of girl she is. That is why we call her Karen the Good. I am not sure what they call me. But you can call me thankful.
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