Oh, the being sick thing....
I might not get back to that for a while, but it's pretty impressive. And rare. And I got better. Only one large scar as a result. Aren't you just DYING to know?????
The accents will be named in the order of where I lived when I was supposed to get them (the accents, that is). Accent 1 for my early years, Accent 2 for the first move to a new place, and so on. I intend to dig through the mundane and embarrassing in an effort to not only amuse the few who might stumble by this musty corner of the e-world's stacks, but also to itemize for myself what I have been.
Beware - I've been alive a long time, and have done some things that I can't even believe I've lived through, but none of it is much different from what you may have done or been or are trying to be.
There are stories of youth (a titillating chapter of which was our playground torture chamber called "The Naked Ape Machine"), adolescence (say, wouldn't the time I got dropped on the floor at the Homecoming Dance make a great story?), young adulthood (only half of it remembered, and then only fuzzily - I had a superior time at that time), and then the rest of my life (say, after 30), the details of which provide blandly chewy fodder in large part, with some gristly bits thrown in just to be sure I'm really alive.
I like, and not in this order, necessarily:
getting a little drunk
clean countertops and floors
snuggling with my children
being very silly
Wallace and Gromit
indepth conversations about spirituality
sunset, and the bit of breeze that comes with it
And, of course, I am learning to love myself.