Growing up my brother was a pest.  There’s no other way to describe him.  For most of our years together we had a love/hate relationship common among siblings.  Actually, I should probably thank my brother for giving my publishing career its initial start.  I kept a diary back in those days, starting around the time I was in the sixth grade.  Fact is, I still write in one daily but I’m more sophisticated now and call it my journal . . . but I digress. Read the full blog.