Full Disclosure

Before you begin, you should be cautioned that the following post is not in keeping with the style and context of previous entries. It is a deviation from the norm and my attempt at, well, I don't know, something or other. I figure that filed somewhere between my grocery list and thoughts on how to trick my four year old into liking peas, is a genuine, honest to goodness, original thought. Tis a scary idea for us both, dear reader, so be assured that I bear you no ill will for signing off now and returning at a later date for the safety of a story about how Max currently favors wearing his underwear outside of his clothing in true Superman fashion, or how Cal used the word "p*nis" when telling his teachers and class about our recent day at the beach. Did I mention, too, the fight in the grocery store over whose nuts were bigger? We're speaking bags of pistacios and peanuts, of course, but should you have been shopping one aisle over, you'd never have known.

I recognize that I have been a derelict blogger as of late and can offer no excuse but to throw myself at my the feet of my readership and beg for mercy. You are a forgiving bunch, I should hope, seeing as how we are related, and I am in possession of your grandchildren and nephews. Truth is, I've been stalling. I like to write, but I fear I lack originality or at the very least, a thought worth sharing. However, I do have them; real, honest to goodness thoughts (from time to time, that is). And yesterday, when I threw my back out doing yoga, I figure that I am a big enough (and apparently old enough) person to claim them. So, here goes the risk of a little exposure...of the writing kind.

Owning one's thoughts and opinions is a risky move for someone like me who favors the peace and security that referring or defaulting to others can bring. When your standard for yourself is perfection, you tend to figure that any effort or display of lesser proportion is invaluable and should remain under lock and key lest anyone discover your dirty little secret of imperfection. I know several brave souls who parade through this life with their own brightly-colored flags flying at full mast. I envy them. What am I afraid of, really? A raised eyebrow? A differing opinion? Offending someone? I'm beginning to think that there really is no recourse consequential enough to justify falling into step in someone else's parade. So, as a new chapter in this life begins for me, so does a march in the direction of ownership and full disclosure. Cue the band.