Red Socks

When it comes to nieces, I have a lovely collection. But in the special category of nieces-in-law, I have just one. Her name is Jenn and let me tell you, she is nothing short of a peach.

She is the kind of person who:

^ arranges plastic dinosaurs in attack mode on the tables at her otherwise formal and classically beautiful wedding reception,

^ sits up talking till three a.m. and then makes scrambled eggs with me,

^ gets a dream trip to Australia and spends most of her time hanging out in caves with wild bats,

^ gamely chugs up a foggy Pacific Northwest mountainside and then agrees to jump in a frigid alpine lake,

^ loves avocados to the extreme,

^ not only sends me postcards from her travels around the world but decorates her messages with little illustrations.

^ keeps the animals and humans of Boston safe from assorted infectious veterinary diseases,

^ and hops on a plane, flies 3000 miles to visit me, then takes pictures of herself with my pets.

Also, Jenn is the kind of person who thanks me for my hospitality by knitting me a pair of red socks.

And that, in my opinion, is an entirely awesome kind of person to be.