If anyone's been keeping track, I imagine it's become very apparent that I'm going to suck - SUCK DIDDLY-UCK! - at blogging. And it's not like I didn't know I would, 'cause I did, but Cliff (the fellow who created this webpage) insisted that every author needs a blog, so...
You know how I knew I'd suck at this? About every three years, as I was growing up, I asked for a diary for Christmas. They were so cool looking, tooled pink or aquamarine leather; the last one was red, as I'd reached the very mature age of 14 by then, and pink and aqua was for babies! Anyway, I'd get these little secret journals and hide my key away from my pesky sisters and write in it religiously...for about 3 days. Then it'd gather dust for a year until I came to the ...