Well hello, old friend. I've come to talk with you again.

I think I first knew I wanted to write *something* when I garnered a paycheck, so to speak, for a piece I'd written. I was a senior in high school, it was an essay about a topic that I cannot for the life of me remember and it was for an American Legion writing contest.  One day, close to the end of the school year, my English class was called to an assembly and the award recipients were announced. I'd won first place and a sweet $300 check.  That immediately went into my college bank account, not to be touched until I went off to school in August. Boo hiss, practical parents. In hindsight, though, that was the moment that my subconscious said "Hey. You might not be bad at this writing thing..." even though my conscious was more about the money, honey. 

I've always been one to put pen to paper. Short stories in elementary school about raindrops with international identities  -- Spanish raindrops and Japanese raindrops and Kenyan raindrops and so on and so on -- and a family newsletter plunked out on my dad's old manual typewriter from his college days. That publication contained such headlines as  "Bill remembered to feed the cat this week" and "Helping Nana get ready for bridge club." Total must reads. But time and other interests rose to the forefront and even though I thought a lot and talked a lot about writing, it never became routine. I blogged regularly -- RIGHT HERE -- for many years. Then stopped. For 18 months. Will's health was kooky, with chronic ear infections making life a challenge for all of us. I was in a bit of a rut. And a lot of what I'd wax poetical about on the blog I was sharing on Facebook. That devil. 

Time and tide have changed. Will's ear issues are not nearly as serious as they once were. And I've had a bit of a creative renaissance this past week, thanks to a total change of venue and a big ass yank out of my comfort zone. Will and I took a road trip together -- just the two of us, although we did meet the mister in Baltimore, where he is currently working during the week these days. I cannot express adequately what a experience it's been... I did document it on a special travel blog which can get a lot of the credit for helping to fire up the writer's neutrons again.

So I guess I might could be called a writer once more. It feels good. Like I'm being a contributing member of society again. Or something. And y'all gentle readers -- thanks in advance for tuning in. Again. Or for the first time. Not sure what's going to pop up here. I've changed in the 18 months since we last met. I'm sure you have as well. That's a good thing. Please chime in on stuff with comments and the like. Don't be shy. I won't be.

You've been warned.

Writing and travel broaden your ass if not your mind and I like to write standing up.

~ Ernest Hemingway