On a recent summer evening, I sat in my lawn chair enjoying the breeze. Was that fall I smelled? All the stresses of work and home melted in the garden air.

Then I called my sister. She lives in Sheridan and is great. Really.

She's a great mom. She's a great wife. She's a great, thoughtful daughter who always calls on my parents' anniversary. And she's a great sister: She never forgets my birthday even though I wish she would, because I almost always forget hers.

(Oh, and she's skinny. But whatever.)

I mean it. She's really, really great.

So great, that she killed my summer-time buzz.

We chatted pleasantly for a while and talked about our kids.

Wouldn't you guess? Her kids are great, too.

Her son, 9-year-old Scott, won two Grand Champion ribbons at the Sheridan County Fair. Both projects went to the state fair in Douglas. His ideas were his own, original and well executed. The only help my sister gave was to type his reports on the computer.

"Wow! That's great," I said, trying to sound like I was smiling.

"Tell Scott good job for me."

But even as I said it, images of Sammy's kindergarten Science Fair project flashed through my mind. The third and final attempt ended up in the garbage can, as Sammy cried his kindergarten eyes out. I had to dry his tears with a breakfast of chocolate ice cream while sending him to school Science-Fair projectless.

Next, my sister and I talked about the hectic days we'd had. I came home from work, warmed up some leftovers sent Sammy outside to find some neighborhood children. I was beat.

Oh, did she know it!

It was her day off, but man was she tired. She and her kids spent too long weeding their garden and couldn't spend as long on their family bike ride. (Family what?) In between, she carted her kids around on a list of odd errands she would never do on company time.

"Wow! That's great! Your kids pull weeds!" My kids will fold a couple of towels if I hound them for two solid days. And errands on a day off? Seriously?

"Well," she said eventually, "I better get these kids to bed."

"Bed? It's only 8:15," I said. Sammy would be rockin' it until at least 11 p.m., most likely perched upon our car belting out the "SpongeBob SquarePants" theme song at the top of his lungs.

Yes, but my sister likes to get her kids to bed by 8:30. They wake up better, it gives her time to read with them and allows her to unwind for a good night's sleep.

Wow! That's great! What a responsible routine! The last time I tried to get Sammy to read to me, he pulled the book from my hands, said "Dr. Seuss is for babies," and threw it across the room. We both went to bed mad.

But let's be adults here. It's not a competition, right? Even if my sister's 6-year-old twins are already reading chapter books.

My stepson, 12-year-old Taylor, has mowed the lawn. He had to mow it twice to get all the grass he missed the first time, but it still counts, doesn't it?

My family is healthy, rushed, happy and disorganized. And great.

And my sister is great. Really.

But all the same, I probably won't call her again until Taylor is elected class president. Or Sammy stops pronouncing "as" like a person's backside every time I make him read a book aloud. (I made the mistake of giggling the first time, and it just happened to stick for the last four months.)

It's great that he has a sense of humor. No really. It's just great.

Reach features editor Kristy Gray at (307) 266-0586 or kristy.gray@trib.com