I’m a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend and a writer. I didn’t always believe the writer part but my friend Susan told me so. She told me I’m a writer and she would know because she’s a writer. Apparently we can spot each other. It’s like gaydar,I guess.
I’ve been married for twenty something years. We met on bar stools at Wet Willie’s on River Street in Savannah, Georgia. Despite this, we got lucky. Neither of us turned out to be too terribly rotten. Plus, there’s the love thing. So we’re hanging in. He works hard. I’m the wind. We’ve got two……..well I guess they’re not kids anymore. He’s twenty and she’s seventeen. I don’t feel moved to gush on about how I love them. It’s understood, right? They’re my babies. I’d take a bullet for them. I’d take two. One for each.
My Mom died In 2007. Ever since, I’ve been helping my Dad (aka grandpa) navigate his final years without her. He’s ninety one as I write this. He’s got a bit of dementia. He lives with me, my husband, the two kids who aren’t kids anymore and our two cats.
As my dad gets older I find myself increasingly anchored to the house. It’s much like being home with a baby except he’s not cute and cuddly. The struggle is the same though. To spend my days performing simple, mundane, repetitive tasks while trying to maintain a sense of higher purpose. If I can make it look easy, I figure I’m doing it right.
I’ve been intentionally sober since March 2007. I speak the language of recovery with ease and fluency. For the purpose of this blog Ill make an effort to speak regular, improper English. Too much recovery talk creeps people out. I get that.
I’m new to the blogging scene. My intent here is to flex and grow my creative writing muscle. If you like the kinda stuff I write here, great. Follow, comment, like and share. Save me to your home page and visit often. Pretty please.
If you do not like what I write, that’s cool too. Just don’t be mean. Please & thank you.
You know that speech you carry around in your head? The one you’re saving for when you win the Pulitzer Prize or an Academy Award. Or maybe you’re a realist. Maybe you’re planning to give the speech in a cheesy banquet hall. You’ll stand aside your seat and accept the gold watch. Or maybe you’ll get a cheap engraved plaque. Then you’ll give the speech, the one where you thank people. That speech, you know the one. Don’t lie. We’ve all got one.
I’m doing mine here. Because I can. And because, let’s face it, I’m never gonna get a plaque.
Drue, thanks for lighting the way.
Margot, thanks for joining the ranks. It’s better with you.
Ray, Thanks. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,
they got nothin on you.
Susan, thanks for inspiring me always. (www.susanadger.com)
PINAWOR (Pinellas Authors and Writers Organization),thanks for the encouragement.
Steve, thanks for helping me with the blog thing. (steveschuler.com)
Jay. thanks for working hard, coming home and loving me.
To my drinking girlfriends, thanks for loving me even though I’m a
quitter. If you need me, call. I’ll be there. That’s a promise.