When I was little, there was only one thing I wanted to be: a superhero. Who didn't love superheroes (other than the super villains, I mean)? Everyone cheered for the Bats, loved Flash, and was envious of Wonder Woman's invisible plane (though, I was envious of her ability to find it), but I wanted to do more than cheer. I wanted to fly, to lift buildings and deflect bullets, and I'll admit it, I wanted to wear the cape.
I trained hard to achieve my goal. I learned to hide in shadows, to creep down the hallways, stealth-like, wear disguises, and change in telephone booths (much to the horror of my parents). But there came a day when my dreams were broken, and that was the day I realized that being a klutz was not, in fact, a super power, and my super weakness for anything bright and shiny meant a magpie with self-control could easily defeat me in a battle of wills.
What was a superhero in training to do?
I turned to writing as a way to sharpen my mental super-hero skills, and as a way to bide my time until I can hone my klutzy nature into a superpower. I don't get to orbit the earth in a space station (and thank God, because I get sick on merry go round), but I do get to say things like: "Stand aside! This is a job for Writing Girl!!"
Love walking with the puppies and playing tag with the kitties.