It's just that I grew up in a fairly small town where having an excessive imagination was also called being a weirdo. My peers were always so gracious... (gag). So I've kinda habitually stifled mine. Which isn't fair. So nevermind, small town. Your criticisms are behind me.
I write a lot. And maybe people should start reading things that I write.
And I hear blogs are great for that.
How marvelous.
I am married with a 6 month old son. I am also 21, which is kinda young, I am told. And honestly, I couldn't agree more. But I don't really plan these things. Planning is not my forte.
However, my husband is a handsome fox, and my son is my precious monkey. Which makes me the zookeeper. A title I take with pride.
But before I got married and popping out babies, I had this idea that maybe I'd like to write books. 'Cause I really like to read yo! Anything I can get my greedy fingers on. So why not create something myself? To be honest, my progress has been rather hindered by unforseeable events.
Such as marriage and motherhood.
But maybe I can still do both.
Maybe. :)
I've been testing this theory by staying up to the wee hours of the morning frequenting the kitchen and picking my brain apart in front of my computer screen. It turns out that my imagination still churns out some interesting things these daaaays...
So, ladies and gentlemen, we have a plot on our hands.
It was really a novel idea.
I know, I'll stop.
So if you'll pardon me, I have some cherry bombs and caffeine to consume.
And then I continue writing.
P.S. I usually make a mockery of recipies like these. But really, they are delicious. Idiotproof even. You should try. Pure Deliciousness
These are mine though. I may or may not devour them all tonight. (May.)
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