'twas a brilliant plan that came together perfectly on Sunday as I loaded a couple of containers full of yummy Christmas cookies into my car after having done not much more than dishes (and some drinking).

I hate the kitchen.

My sister is Martha Stewart (I seriously think she channels her).

I had to bake a few dozen cookies for the preschool Christmas program and I had planned to buy the refrigerated cookie dough (you know the kind you break apart and bake) when I happened upon an AP story about hosting a Christmas cookie party/exchange.

Ah...ha.

I called my sister and planted the seed. "Hey, didn't you used to do those cookie parties with your friends? You always said they were fun, huh? We should do one with the scrapbooking girls..."

She bit. I knew she would.

I rounded up some family bakers, doled out assignments, divided up the shopping list and promised them a good time.

Sister came through, of course, with the cookie party of all cookie parties with a gourmet lunch -- not just your average soup and sandwich but...the kind of soup and sandwich Martha would serve -- with imported cheeses, special sauces, and mouth-watering dessert.

She also had any ingredient we ran out of, more cookie sheets than we could use, Christmas music on the CD player, fresh flower arrangements on the table.

She even had favors -- seriously -- Christmas-theme spatulas with a cookie cutter attached and the words "Cookie Party 2006" written on the handle.

I took one look at those spatulas lined up on the sideboard and almost cried. All of a sudden, I realized how long I have taken my sister for granted.

Only now do I realize that all the differences that have annoyed me for 35 years are all the things I should've been appreciating about her.

We are as different as two sister can be. She is a slob, I'm a neat-freak; she loves to cook, I hate it; she loves fashion, I could wear paper bags; she can sew gowns, I can't sew on buttons; she loves all the expensive mall stores, I shop bargain basement outlets; she's good at math, I am so bad with numbers it's almost funny. She is a staunch -- and vocal -- Republican. I am a liberal -- and vocal -- Democrat. I love Clinton, she blames him for the downfall of the country (don't even get us started on G.W.B. -- Mom long ago declared politics as a forbidden topic at family dinners).

But, maybe that's the way it should be. She the ying to my yang. She keeps me grounded. She challenges me.

This I love about getting older -- my mind is clearer and I am more easily able to see things for what (and who) they really are. I am more willing to accept people for who (and what) they are.

I've realize now that I've wasted 35 years being annoyed with my sister because she wasn't who I wanted her to be.

I think I'm finally mature enough to just love her for who she is.