Dedication

To my sister, Betsy, who I tormented so much growing up. I’m glad that now we are adults you have either forgotten or forgiven my misdeeds.

To my parents: 99.7 percent of the time Betsy confessed and got in trouble, it was really me.

To my childhood dog, Hansel, thank you for always being there, under the dining room table, when I needed vegetables to disappear from my plate. You learned to chew silently, and for that, I was grateful.

To my seventh-grade homeroom teacher, you know who you are. You said I was lazy and would never amount to anything. If you are reading this now, you have concrete proof in your hands that you were mistaken.