Balls out Bitches!!

So, as some of you know, I have been making a bit of noise lately about writing a book. Why in the world would I do such a thing, you may ask. Well, simply put, my life is quite entertaining, particularly the last 4 years. MOST particularly the last year. "You should write a book" I hear all the time, mostly from friends and clients to whom I regale my adventures with husband, kids, exes, wild animals...and  finally I have admitted I should.

*stops to put on inspirational music, i.e. Fiona Apple*

My hesitations have been: who the hell would be interested in my life, I haven't written anything since college, I am a 4 fingered typist who seldom capitalizes my i's, no one will read what I write, everyone I know will read what I write and shun me...the list goes on. All valid reasons. However, as I live, I find myself actually narrating. At this point I know it is time to document. Fuck my fears. I am annoying myself by NOT writing. Better to satisfy myself and annoy others. And possible make you laugh, feel better about yourselves, be critical, be sympathetic, or lull you to sleep. Whatever works.

Writing is like going to the grocery store naked. I will be seen by strangers, by neighbors, by critics, by fans. They will see my tattoos and stretchmarks and breast implants and judge me. Sometimes they will admire me, sometimes they will go home feeling better about themselves by comparison. They will wonder, " What the hell does she do with all those bananas?" My desire is that they understand my perspective, and feel a connection with me. I've got friends and family that know everything about me, and some that know only what  I think they can handle. So to the conservatives, the right wing Republicans, the Mormons, I love and respect you. You have every right to live your life as you see fit, as do I. If you can't handle my truth, do us both a favor and don't read it. 

I've been known to be honest to a fault.... to tell people more than they need to know. I can be blunt, insensitive, and indiscreet. I say "fuck" a lot. A LOT.  When Ryan and I got married the vow we repeated, so cleverly chosen by our Reverend Court, was "I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, even if the other person can't handle it." So here is my truth, for everyone else. This blog is a test. Can I finish what I aspire to start? Can I expose my truth? Can I make you laugh, and understand a modicum of what it's like to be me? Could I get carried away, and actually write a book? Or five?

So this is how I begin. Cautiously, with spellcheck, because frankly it's been a while.

Balls out, bitches.