This is me, today, on my 41st birthday.
You never think you'll be this old, and then here you are. And it feels good!
So I'm going to ask you to do something for me. I was going to say I'm not going to beat the bird in the bush.
And then I realized it's beat around. And there's no bird in the bush you're beating. Around. It's the bird in the hand. Which you, ostensibly, aren't beating.
Although one time I did tell Maude that her stupid boyfriend was kicking himself in the foot. (It turns out to be shooting. And he was stupid - she'll agree.) Whatever. You can't make a pig's purse out of a rat's ass.
Enough beating the bird. Getting to the point.
Those of you who read and comment are so incredibly thoughtful and bright and interesting - yes, I know this - I pore over you comments - and I have something to ask of you. And if you'd indulge me on my birthday, I'd be most grateful.
Would you tell me which stories of mine you like best? Either the types of tales, or specific stories. Ones that could perhaps be expanded upon. Or that I could perhaps concoct more of. (And yes, I know I should say of which I could concoct more.)
You know I'm working on something larger, and the truth is, I need some help.
You read me - so what do you like?
Thank you and hugs all around!