(to be determined)

So, let me expand on the story of me, my narrative, as it were (I’d like to mention Charlie here because “as it were” was his saying; he learned it to me when I was still a young woman and more a girl, actually.)…

I’m not really a writer but I’ve been doing it all my life once old enough, that is. Verbal expression is not my forte and I remember Ms. Buck, my 4th grade teacher, mentioning I had an aptitude for expressing myself better on paper…she was probably more pointing out that I spoke too quickly or confusingly to be understood but I didn’t think of this until now….gheezzzz…I’m really not much of a writer for sure then. Regardless, I’ve started this story so I’ll tell it…oh and Ms. Buck was significantly hard on my eyes and she was mean too.

There’s no sense in “word smithing” around about things; I was born adorable, obviously, but I’ve always been too freespirited for my own good and I still cause my parents consternation more than I should. I’m not sure, but I think the hospital, Smithtown General, burnt down shortly after my birth as a safety measure, sort of like a scene from, “The Omen”, but much scarier with flying monkeys; these monkeys normally thrive in North Korea but they flew in for my birth like scary flying monkeys tend to do.

Fast forward a few years…

Somewhere, approximately the age of 3, perhaps pushing 4, I developed an incorrigible wanderlust so I went; I went and did anything any precociously slightly daredevilish kid could possibly do. My parents were thankfully extremely young and slightly oblivious enough to cope with me and lucky for them they had no idea about half the adventures that happened to me. (Mom, dad, it’s probably best if you cease reading this now.).

(To be continued. Stay tuned. This is going to be a long process, I’m sure.)…