Not saying you should be me, but...

I have ones of readers, a happy life, smoking hot shoes, the best singing voice within a block of here, and a bet with George Washington that I can hold my breath longer than he can.

Currently, he is winning.

No matter, I don't mind.  He's had lots more practice than me.  Just wait up, George, and see what I'll be able to do in 30 years or so!

There is writing kicking around in my head.  Creative stuff.  The starts of many a story are whirling around.  Things like:

• The trouble with Gabriella was that she wouldn't pay attention, even when struck.

• Anymore, the chance to play hooky was slight and dangerous.

• One time I caught a bug so amazing I kept its feet between my fingers while staring down all the rivulets of struts on its transparent wings.

• A spider laid its eggs on our front porch last night.  She's much thinner now.

• I don't get surprised by this, it's just a thing that happens before the police are called.

• Old Charlie called me from the ditch, a wet brown shag rug of love.

That's a sample, a start.  They all have stories, but I've not yet started 'em.  Ought to, now that fall is coming on.  That's a good time for telling tales.

Just putting it out there.

Tiff out.