My brother, Maine

First off, he hates being called Maine; it's Jermaine, officially. My brother was the first one to tell me to go into business. Namely saying, "You can sell this cookie." That cookie became the "Maine Event," our signature chocolate-chip/chunk cookie--the top selling cookie in the shop.

What's stranger is the fact that years and years ago (atleast 20), I made some sugar cookies that he claimed after one bite had him doubled-over in disgust. True. They were pretty awful. Now, I have a little shop and people pay money for my sweet treats. For this, I am so grateful. For my brother, I am truly blessed.

See, Maine, is always there for me. When I get way-off reviews from people who know little about vegetarian food because they'd rather die than eat a meat-free meal, Maine flashes back to grade school and keeps it elementary by saying, "They're stupid." And although that's a word I don't allow in my home around my children, when on the phone with my brother who is trying to lift me back up from someone's opinion (did I mention someone's misguided opinion?) of my dream, I say, "Yeah, they're stupid."

See, I was the only girl amongst three boys. And to this day, I can always count on them to lift me up when I'm feeling underneath it all. When I'm feeling like it would be so much more sane to do custom cakes out of a small boutique store that is never, ever, ever open to the public because with the public, you get other peoples' issues. So you don't know Maine or my other brothers, but thank them if you love SweetArt. They keep me fighting.