Category Archives: Life

Random Thoughts on Race (No Hidden Meaning Here)


A few minutes ago an article came through my Facebook newsfeed. “Rachel Dolezal’s Unintended Gift to America.” The blurb under the title: “Troubled as she is, she has opened up a candid, long-delayed conversation about the meaning of racial identity.”

On the surface, this seems like a wonderful thing. Except for the fact that I have lost count of the number of titles and subtitles I’ve read that said practically this same thing. Whenever the latest race issue rears its ugly head, as the story starts to die and people are about to move on to the next shiny news story, someone trots out the “We’ve started a conversation,” or “We’ve begun a dialogue” mantra. And again, that’s well and good.

Question…

When are we going to FINISH the conversation? Cuz, I gotta tell ya, I’m tired of talking about the same things over and over.

Race is a man-made construct. It was created to divide people. And if we human beings aren’t good at anything else, we’re damn good at pointing out differences.  We don’t just separate our whites from our colors,  we separate our whites into different shades and our darks into different hues. I could go into reasons both biblical and historical to explain why this happened, but that’s not what this post is about.

Here’s what it’s about, and another question…

Why does it matter?

In 2015, this is what we are:

Race A blames Race B for what Race B did generations ago.

Race B doesn’t like Race A because Race B thinks it’s superior because of how some of Race A behaves.

Interestingly enough, Race A and Race B will come together in hatred of Race C, again because of how some of Race C behaves.

Pick a continent. Any continent. It applies.

But, here’s a concept; instead of hating an entire race of people because of the acts of a few, why not just hate the acts of a few? You don’t chuck the whole set of china because of one broken plate. You don’t dump the car because of one broken taillight and you don’t throw away the whole bag of cookies because some of them are broken. You fix what you can, discard what can’t be fixed and you enjoy what’s left. We can do that with dinnerware, autos and cookies but not with people?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting we all hold hands and sing kumbaya, but I am saying that we’re all human beings. We are all born the same, we all need the same things to survive. We all bleed red. We all have whites of our eyes and black pupils that can go from pin heads to nail heads. Some of us are dark, some of us are light, some of us are black and some of us are almost transparent, but our hearts beat the same, our brains form thoughts in the same manner and deep down we all know that hate based on a man-made construct is stupid.

Don’t believe me? Watch young children play. They could care less what color the other kids are. As long as there is room on the merry-go-round and space in the sandbox, kids will play together. Happily. Forever.

I know it’s going to take an invasion from Race #42 for the races on this planet to start acting like they have some sense. And I know that for the most part this blog post is preaching to the choir. But if we’re going to have the continuous loop of “race issue occurs/social media all atwitter/furor dying down/insert comment about dialogue here,” I at least want my blog post to stand as a reminder that we still have a conversation to finish.

Tagged , , , , ,

An Open Letter to Karen Fitzgibbons, Fourth Grade Teacher of the Year — from One of “The Blacks”


Dear Ms. Fitzgibbons…and others like you,

Well aren’t you a special snowflake. You’ve got your degree and you’re helping to mold young minds. Too bad your own mind is twisted, dark and full of unkind thoughts. I haven’t read what it is you teach fourth graders, but I can only assume (with a shudder) that it makes a lasting impression. Just as I’m sure your recent Facebook post made an impression on your bosses, your neighbors and the parents of your students.

I’m glad you apologized to “the appropriate people,” which I would guess is a short list consisting of the principal of your school, maybe a couple of coworkers who might be people of color (aka…the good blacks), and the school district that could turn your summer vacation into a permanent one.

Honestly, I do hope you lose your job, but not for the reasons you might think.

But before I delve into that, let’s look at the statement that got you into hot water to begin with. I pulled it from the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal.

“I’m going to just go ahead and say it … the blacks are the ones causing the problems and this ‘racial tension.’ I guess that’s what happens when you flunk out of school and have no education. I’m sure their parents are just as guilty for not knowing what their kids were doing; or knew it and didn’t care. I’m almost to the point of wanting them all segregated on one side of town so they can hurt each other and leave the innocent people alone. Maybe the 50s and 60s were really on to something. Now, let the bashing of my true and honest opinion begin….GO! #imnotracist #imsickofthemcausingtrouble #itwasatagedcommunity,”

Where to being. Where. To. Begin…

I’m just going to pull this apart sentence by sentence.

I’m going to just go ahead and say it … the blacks are the ones causing the problems and this ‘racial tension.’

So “the blacks” are the actual problem. Not intolerant non blacks, or overworked hyped up police officers or other teens who most likely took a private invitation to a party and made it public. It’s just “the blacks.” Good to know.

I guess that’s what happens when you flunk out of school and have no education.

Wait…so only “the blacks” flunk out of school and have no education? So, all “the whites” have degrees and are making $100,000 a year? Huh…I’m sitting in Tim Hortons right now and every worker here is white. Who knew you made $100k at Timmys?

I’m sure their parents are just as guilty for not knowing what their kids were doing; or knew it and didn’t care.

Just as guilty for the problems, the ‘racial tension,’ the flunk out rate, or the lack of education? And who should I blame for your inability to string together a coherent thought? Please tell me you teach fourth grade gym.*

I’m almost to the point of wanting them all segregated on one side of town so they can hurt each other and leave the innocent people alone.

Almost? What’s your tipping point? Seriously, I’m curious. Which side of town do you want to give them? Are you going to move if it’s decided they get your side of town?

Maybe the 50s and 60s were really on to something.

Again, please tell me you teach gym. It was during the 50s and 60s that schools were desegregated. So you want to go back and do it again?

Now, let the bashing of my true and honest opinion begin….GO!

Well, since you asked so nicely…

#imnotracist #imsickofthemcausingtrouble #itwasatagedcommunity,”

Um…#yesyouare #imsickofpeoplelikeyou #learntospellgated

You then go on to tell us that your rant wasn’t aimed at any particular group of people.

So, “the blacks,” “them,” and “they” refer to….?

You know, I could forgive you your rant and chalk it up to frustration. I could forgive you your rant because as you said at the beginning of your post, you’re angry. I could forgive you your rant for any number of reasons, if it weren’t for one thing:

You deleted it.

You didn’t even have the guts to stand by your words. You’re not just ignorant or racist or bigoted for writing that post, you’re a hypocrite and a coward for taking it down. As much as I don ‘t want racist, bigoted and ignorant teachers educating the next generation, I don’t need people who don’t have the fortitude to stand by what they believe teaching them either. So please, do us all a favor, put down the red ink pen (still hoping it’s a whistle), hand in your grade book and find another profession.

*This is in no way slamming gym teachers. My point is that since she misspelled a hashtag, has a hard time forming a coherent thought and doesn’t seem to know U.S. History, the idea of her teaching English, reading or the Social Sciences scares me.

Tagged , , ,

Channeling My Inner Peter Gibbons


For a while now I’ve not been happy with my career trajectory.

And by “awhile,” I mean several years. Heading into a decade actually.

Now technically, I am a writer. I write words. I get paid. I write more words…

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The problem: I don’t like the words I’m writing.

The other problem: I don’t like what I’m getting paid for the words I write.

The third problem: I don’t like the crap I have to deal with while writing the words I write.

Not liking what I write + Not liking the pay for what I write + Dealing with crap while I write =

A PETER GIBBONS MOMENT

I hope that most of you get the reference to the guy who was the hero of all cubicle dwellers in the early ’00. But for those of you who are not familiar with the guy or the movie in which he appeared, check this out:

This is the attitude that greeted me this morning. It’s not the first time, but this go around it was accompanied with a declarative statement:

I’m done.

I’m done working for peanuts.

I’m done writing about stuff I don’t give a crap about.

I’m done with being too tired to work on writing I WANT to do because I have to work on so much of the crap to make ends meet.

I’m done dealing with clients who do not appreciate what I do for them.

I’m done feeling guilty for crocheting, chainmailling or just watching a tv show and not working at the same time.

I don’t like working for peanuts, for people who don’t appreciate what I do for them anyway so I’m just not going to do it anymore.

I’m. Done.

So here is my plan:

By the end of next month, I will have my book completed (“From the Minds of my Family” is the tentative title. I also like “Words with Skip and Mary,” but that might be limiting.) and a solid first draft for my online dating book. No idea what I’m going to call it.

I have two clients that I will continue to work with because I actually enjoy working with them. I will seek new clients, but I’m going to be picky.

I’m going to go back to my first love, which is feature writing.

And finally, I’m going to crochet and chainmaille more, hang out with my granddaughter and watch tv….without feeling guilty about any of it.

Life is about to get more interesting because I’m finally going to, you know, LIVE IT!

🙂

Tagged , , , , ,

46(?)/46/46- Day #7: This post…


Simply acknowledges that the day existed. If I could erase it from my memory I would. Tomorrow is bound to be better, so I’m going to focus on that. Till tomorrow…

Tagged , ,

46(?)/46/46 – Day #5: Post 101


So yesterday I posted about my final wishes. Interestingly enough, that was the 100th post to this blog. For some reason, I find that amusing.

I’m weird, you know this. Nod and go along with it.

So, when you reach such a milestone, it puts a lot of pressure on the followup. You feel some great need to be just as whatever the previous post was. So, thinking back to yesterday’s post…

It wasn’t particularly funny.

It wasn’t overly sad.

I wasn’t mad about anything.

It wasn’t a rant.

It was just…well it just…was. It was me, just kinda talking off the cuff.

Well hell, that’s not hard to top. I’m almost disappointed that I don’t have to pull of some major blogging coup.

But, since this is a challenge and the blog post really needs to be well above 100 words (141 at the moment), here are some thoughts about goings on in the world.

  • Play-Doh made a cake decorating kit. In the kit is a little “tool” for “icing.” Apparently, the “tool” is shaped like a penis. Parents are outraged. Some even said it ruined their Christmas. Seriously? Ruined Christmas? This wouldn’t ruin my Wednesday. Now, if your kid (say it’s a 4-year-old girl) comes up to you and says, “Hey, mom/dad, this looks just like a penis!”, you might want to ask some questions. But other than that, I can’t see how the “tool” is that big an issue for the kids that would play with it.  And yes, I am being sophomoric by putting “tool” in quotes. Just being as silly as the parents. 😉
  • Dating sites are an adventure. I just got a message from a guy that said, “Hay, I think your pritty.” Sigh…he was kinda cute, too. Guys, that little squiggly red line under words such as “pritty” is there for a reason. It means, “HEy moron, you might want to check the spelling of that word.” Ignoring that squiggly line isn’t going to score you points with most women, and it’s going to seriously cost you points with me. I can overlook a receding hairline, extra weight and your love of “4-wheelin’,” but I draw the line at preventable misspellings.

Okay, I’m out of stuff to say. Hopefully something noteworthy will happen between when I hit submit and 11:59 p.m. tomorrow when I have to post again. Also, don’t forget this is your chance to ask me something you’ve always wanted to know about me and have me answer you.

Til tomorrow…Namaste!

Tagged , , , ,

46(?)/46/46 – Day #4: When I die…


As usual, I’m sitting here, working. I always have music or a show playing in the background, and today’s selection is my “Wicked” soundtrack. My love for this musical cannot really be measured. Which is why it still sticks in my craw that I have yet to see it on Broadway. It’s certainly high on my bucket list.

Hum…you know if it’s on your bucket list, then obviously it’s important to you, so how do you decide which thing on your bucket list is the most important? I have a bucket list but I don’t know how much progress I’ve made. Obviously “see Wicked on Broadway” remains unchecked…

This also makes me think of what my final wishes are. A few days ago I told one of my friends that when I pass I don’t want a stuffy, formal funeral. I want a party. I’m flattered that there could be people who will weep at my passing, I’d much prefer my dearest celebrate my passing with a party. Share memories, laugh a lot, enjoy that I was once there instead of mourning the fact I am now gone.

I also have an interesting request for my remains. Here’s the step-by-step request:

1. Cremate me. If you just HAVE to have a viewing, rent the casket, do it for a day and move on.

2. Throw the party I mentioned above.

3. When you get my remains back from the crematorium, get on a plane to Jamaica.

(Some of you know what’s coming, lol)

4. Fly to Ochos Rios.

5. Pick a waterfall, doesn’t matter which one.

6. Let’s back up a second. When you get off the plane and hop in a taxi, you will be offered something. Take it, you’ll need it later. Later, (and still before the waterfall) use what you were offered in the taxi (or the airport, or by the guy who carries your bag through the airport). Add those ashes to my ashes. Now, go to the waterfall.

7. Dump my ashes into the water.

8. As for financing this adventure, that’s why I have life insurance. 🙂

Okay, now that I have that off my chest, I’m going back to work. Broadway tickets and trips to NYC aren’t free.

Tagged , ,

46(?)/46/46 – Day #2: HAPPY NEW YEAR!


So, it’s 2015 and that means everyone is busting out their resolutions. Lose weight. Eat better. Save more money. Be nicer. All things people have pledged and all valid and good goals.

I’m not a fan of making new years resolutions. For example, I didn’t decide on Jan. 1 of last year to quit smoking. I decided one day in Feb. or March (can’t remember which) to quit, and I quit. A specific day of the year isn’t enough motivation for me to start or stop something.

But everyone keeps asking me what my resolution(s) for 2015 is/are. So, to appease these people, here is my lone New Years 2015 Resolution:

I resolve to be me.

Yeah, that might sound like a simple thing to do, but it’s really not. This is ME we’re talking about. I spend a good part of my life debating what I should or should not say, what I should or should not do, and what others might think about my decisions. In other words, when I say I don’t really care about what others think, what I really mean is that what others think of feel aren’t enough to stop me from doing or saying what I want to do or say.

Yes, ladies and gents…there are times when I STILL don’t say or do what I want to say or do.

Feel free to shudder at the thought.

But frankly, my resolution has less to do with what I say and do and more with what I allow around me and the things I go along with. Up until now, I’ve excused behavior or attitudes or opinions that made me uncomfortable, whether it was because I “thought” I understood what they person really meant, or I was sure the person didn’t actually mean what they said and were just talking out of anger, confusion or just legitimate ignorance. I did that a lot last year.

A. LOT.

I’m not going to do it anymore. If you say something I don’t agree with or that could be interpreted in a variety of ways, I’m going to ask you to clarify it. From that point, we’ll either remain friends with a new understanding, or…

Because I’m no longer willing to be the “exception.” I’ve done that for 45 years. I’m not doing it for 46.

This covers a variety of areas and not just the obvious ones some of your immediately jumped to. It covers both my personal and professional life. That said, just because we might not agree on an issue doesn’t mean the friendship is over. I disagree with a lot of my friends about a lot of things, and I KNOW many of you disagree with me quite often. Those aren’t the types of situations I’m referring to. I guess, the only thing I can suggest is that you be you, I’ll be me and we’ll see what we see.

So I guess you could sum up my resolution as such: The gloves are off.

See what happens when you make me do something I don’t want to do? 😉

Tagged , , , , , ,

What I learned in logic class…


When I was an undergrad, I took a philosophy/logic class. On one of the professor’s first exams, he asked this question:

“Why?”

No one got the answer right.

As we went through the semester, the answer he was looking for became more clear. When the professor posed the question on the final exam, we all got it right.

The answer: Because

Many of us are still reeling over the events of Friday. Many are angry. Many are gut-wrenchingly sad. Many are asking “why?” What would make a person do such a heinous thing?

These are fair questions, but in the overall scheme of things, the concrete answers don’t matter, and more to the point, we will never know, since the only one who could provide the answers is no longer here.

So we are forced to live with the fact we will not get the answers we want. Notice I said want, not need. We already know what we need to know, we just aren’t willing to accept it.

We know 20 families are not tucking in little ones tonight.

We know 27 families are making funeral arrangements tonight.

We know several dozen parents are living with the agony of outliving their child

We know children have lost their parents.

We know too many people died on Friday.

We know all this, yet we still ask why.

Well…

Because there has always been craziness on the planet.

Because there has always been evil in this world.

Because it is human nature for a person in pain to strike out at others, to not only inflict pain, but as a desperate attempt to lesson his own.

I don’t know if Adam Lanza was crazy, evil, in pain or a combination of the above. What I do know is that we are wringing our hands and banging our heads against the wall, trying to figure the “whys,” when the answer is simple. Painfully simple:

Because he wanted to

Because he could

Because he did

Because

The Great American Debates have already started. Both sides of the gun issue will be bantering back and forth for several weeks, both pointing fingers and sharing pearls of wisdom such as “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people,” and “If guns were banned, this would have never happened.” The religion debate will heat up, with school prayer being trotted out again (Yeah, I know, already happened.) Others, I’m sure, will find a way to make this tragedy work for their niche political agenda.

But if these are the only takeaways we get from this horrific event, then we’re doomed. Because even in our darkest hours, there are still rays of light and hope. Platform people can demand changes until they are blue, but those changes won’t make the crazy sane or the evil disappear. You can’t legislate it,  you can’t will it out of existence, but no one wants to talk about what could be done about it.Sure people want change, but the proposals are cosmetic. (I’m avoiding the political aspects right now…)

So, the best we can do (for now) is realize that these things exist and live our lives knowing that at any given moment, crazy and evil can land on our doorstep. That does not mean we are to go trough our lives in fear. It actually means the opposite. We should embrace every day and everyone we care about. None of us knows when we will speak our final words to someone, kiss our last kiss or give our last hug to those we love.

Because none of us are promised a tomorrow.

Because bad things happen

Because we’re all human

Because

Tagged , , , , , ,

Running Away From Home


Working from home definitely has its advantages. First of all, you can’t beat the commute. It takes me all of five minutes to get to work, and that includes a stop at the bathroom and the coffee maker. 10 if one of my dogs is tap dancing at the back door.

Then there’s the dress code. I do typically get up and get dressed (I usually take a shower before bed), but instead of dress slacks and a blouse, it’s sweats or shorts and a t-shirt, usually with a cartoon character emblazoned on the front. And no dress shoes — flip flops or cow slippers. I know the Fly Lady is frowning about that, but hey, slippers ARE shoes, and yes, sometimes I actually do wear them outside the house.

And let’s not forget about the hours. Wait, I actually work more hours now than I did at my last brick and mortar, but I LIKE what I do now, so it counts, yet it doesn’t. But then again, I can work pretty much when I want, so it’s still one more item in the “plus” column.

So, overall, working for myself from home is pretty awesome.

But sometimes…you just need to run away.

The last few weeks, my productivity has slowed, and not because of a lack of work. With each passing day, I’ve spent more and more time staring at a blank screen. Or I’ve been playing Hidden Chronicles. Or playing on Facebook. Anything but writing. I had deadlines looming, but I couldn’t get any real work done to save my life. I was facing having to do something I usually don’t have to do — ask for extensions.

So, yesterday, I decided that I was going to run away. I packed up my laptop, and headed for a new location. I was hoping a change of scenery would help.

And it did. I got more done yesterday than I have in weeks. And it carried over. When I finally came home last night, my productivity continued. I’m now pretty much caught up, and with tonight’s work, I’ll actually be ahead of my deadlines. Feels good. So good, I just might do it again tomorrow!

So, the next time you’re just staring at a blank screen, try moving that screen to another location. Try a coffee shop or McDonalds. Or the patio, weather permitting. Even moving to a different room in the house might be enough to get you going.

So, lesson learned: Exercise some flexibility. Remember that you can work anywhere. Staying chained to your desk flies in the face of working for yourself. Enjoy the opportunity.

 

 

Tagged , , , , ,

An Introduction of Sorts…


Over the last couple of days, I’ve been called quite a few things. Here are a few of my favorites:

  • Feminazi
  • Witty
  • Bleeding-heart liberal
  • Opinionated
  • Unfair
  • Eloquent
  • Unbalanced
  • Brilliant
  • Hateful
  • Sarcastic
  • Big-mouthed
  • Bitchy
  • Smart

I’m shocked “stupid” wasn’t bandied about, but hey, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 🙂

Just for fun, and by way of an introduction to my new followers (Hello and Welcome!), I’m going to offer my opinion on each of these descriptions. Cuz, y’know, why not.

Feminazi – If refusing to remain silent while men wage war against women’s rights, shouting down loud-mouthed blowhards, and demanding that women have not equal but the majority say over what goes into and comes out of their bodies makes me a feminazi, then by God, I’ll carry the scepter, and wear the tiara and sash proudly while I take care of my family, build my career and have sex when and with whom I choose, thank-you-very-much!

Witty – Well, thank you. I’d say I try, but honestly, I have to try harder NOT to be humorous. That’s not meant to be conceited, I really have a hard time not letting some sort of humor leak into everything I write. When you write dry, boring copy for a living, fighting the urge to be (or attempt to be) funny is hard. That’s part of the reason for why I blog. *I* need an outlet. 🙂 Imagine a bowl of bran flakes….with a fruit loop in thrown in. Finish that joke however you wish.

Bleeding-heart Liberal –  Not really a fair assessment, and I will explain why later.

Opinionated – Gee…me? Nah, I don’t have an opinion on anything. And even if I did, I would never, ever deign to share it.

Unfair – I think that assessment is unfair. I try to show all facets of an issue before offering my opinion, unless the issue is so ridiculous that there is really no other facet to show other than the ridiculousness of the issue.

Eloquent – Thanks…I try! Not very eloquent, but heartfelt!

Unbalanced – Now see, I don’t know if the person who said this meant “unbalanced” as in only showing one side of the story, or “unbalanced” as in I need to be fitted for a straight jacket and prepped for a frontal lobotomy. Then again, it could mean both. But to quote Sheldon (from The Big Bang Theory), “I’m not crazy. My mother had me tested.”

Brilliant – Really smart? According to the tests, yes. Am I capable of moments of brilliance? Of course. We all are. But brilliant? Nah…I just know what my gifts are and try to use them to their fullest as much as possible. But thank you for the compliment!

Hateful – Nope. I’m not a hateful person. I don’t hate anyone or anything. Hate is a wasted emotion. You spend all this time hating someone, but you never tell that person why you hate them. So, they’re off living their life, smelling flowers and whistling a happy tune, and you’re curled up in the fetal position on your bed, suffering from migraines, ulcers and for the life if it, cannot understand why you’re leading a miserable life. What’s wrong with that picture?

Sarcastic – You must be new here. Cuz I can hide my sarcasm for about five whole seconds. It’s harder to control than my humor. Don’t believe me? Check out practically any other post on this blog — sarcasm enters around word 50 (sometimes earlier) and doesn’t leave until I end the post. But I really think I’m more snarky than sarcastic, but oh well, po-tay-to, po-tah-to. It was still a swing and a miss in the insult department.

Big-mouhted – I think this one is a bit off the mark, and really doesn’t make much sense considering this is prose and not spoken word. If I wanted to be a big mouth on screen, I’d have to TYPE EVERYTHING IN CAPS AND BOLD IT SO I’D BE SURE YOU SAW IT. I’D ALSO ADD SEVERAL COLORS SO EVERYTHING STOOD OUT, AND USE LOTS OF “!!!!” TO MAKE SURE YOU UNDERSTOOD MY POINT!!! 

But that’s not how I roll, so nah, wrong again.

Bitchy – Yeah, I can be. I don’t argue that. Matter of fact, I embrace my inner bitch. I wish more people would do that, there would be much less heartache in the world.  But I really believe I’m bitchy only when justified, and I don’t think I’ve been particularly bitchy in this blog. But I have had my moments. LOL

Smart – Yeah, okay. Thanks. 🙂

So, that’s what others think of me and how I feel about what others think of me. Now, here’s who I know I am:

I’m a woman with an opinion who is not afraid to express it. If I read, see or hear of an injustice, an act of stupidity or other uncalled for occurrence, I will drag it out of the dark corner where it is trying to hide and expose it for what it really is. I will defend the things I believe in until I’m hoarse and my fingers bleed. If you come at me, take your best shot, cuz when I fire back, I. Won’t. Miss.

I’m a liberal who believes that those in the position to help others, should. I also believe that once you’ve been helped, you need to move to the other side of the column and become a helper yourself. If you don’t — if you continue to seek help when you could do for yourself, or you refuse to help others as you were helped, you’ll have to answer to me. And you’d better have a damn good excuse.

I believe that if you don’t vote, you don’t get to bitch. Spare me the “my one vote isn’t going to make a difference”, “the whole political process is rigged” and “our voices aren’t heard anyway” mumbo jumbo. Even if any and all of that is true, our forefathers died so we could vote. If we end up in a situation you don’t like and you did nothing about it, other than complain that the system is broken, I don’t want to hear it. Move on.

I believe everyone should have the right to love who they want, and if they want to get married, they’re crazy more power to them. (Did I mention I’m divorced? lol)

I’m a writer, a designer, a mother, a daughter a sister and a friend. I love deeply and am loyal to a fault. I’m kind to furry woodland creatures, share my toys and color inside the lines (usually).

But most of all, I love being here. It’s beats the hell out of the alternative. I’d rather smell the daisies than push them up from the other side.

And that, ladies and gents, is who I am, or at least a brief synopsis. And that’s who writes this blog. I hope you’ll stick around and see what I have to say. I’m sure it will only get more interesting as the months progress.

Tagged , , , , ,