NaBloOhMyGo!

Okay, I'm doin' it. I'm not sure why. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I have a feeling I'll get something out of it, if nothing other than the daily exercise of my literary muscles.

Though I suppose to really flex the lits, I ought to post fiction. If I run out of true tales to tell, it may come to that: 30 Tall Tales From A Short Person.

In the shop today, as I wheeled out my bike, another patron looked at it and said, "Hunh. I didn't think you were that small." Snort.

Anyway, I really am rather nervous about how I shall fill up a month's worth of posts. I expect at some point I will segue into the fantastical, as I am wont to do when entertaining myself in my own head.

For example, it occurs to me that if I were a superhero, my mutant power would be to make men forget they have girlfriends and/or wives. And as amusing as that may sound, it would not be my first choice of superpowers.

I should much prefer to be able to fly, for example - the better to swoop over the rooftops in the grey dawn light.

Time-traveling might be entertaining, in a Connecticut-Yankee sort of way. As would being able to wave a magic wand and degravitize certain objects.

During the mad pre-holiday rush, I might choose to be able to speed-knit - though I suppose that's not so much a mutant power as simply knowing how to knit Continental.

Aw, I'm just filibustering. The truth is, what's on my mind lately mostly has to do with being a bit lonely in a very specific way. I had a delightful day with friends today, for instance, and yet when I got home I still felt kind of lost. I've begun to feel, quite recently, that I may have passed over the border between wishing vaguely for a boy to play with and actually being ready to cope with having a boy to play with.

Believe me, there is a distinction. We shall see. So far, the mutant power does not extend to luring fabulous boys out of the woodwork. Okay, not to luring fabulous single boys out of the woodwork.