You know all those perfect people who have blogs? I’m not one of them. You know, the ones who’ve said fifty ‘amens’ before breakfast and spent their youth spoon-feeding needy children in an Indian village while simultaneously producing their bestselling Christian book and marrying their teenage sweetheart. The ones who seem to have had blessed lives and are just waiting for this earthly stuff to end before they take their halo and their guitar and their general perfectness and hallelujah heavenward. They kinda make me feel inadequate, if I think about it too much. So I don’t. I’m just me. And actually I’m ok in my own skin. And actually it’s been a lot of years getting to this point. And actually I had the kind of childhood/youth that should have left me dead in a ditch, or a raging alcoholic, or… something. So to be happy in my own skin is great. The rest… I’ll figure it out as I go. That’s my general life-approach; why do anything new?
I”m married to Frank. There are three monkeys running around the place, HRH, Tink and Squidge (nicknames, you understand). HRH has autism and goes to a special school. He’s wonderful and amazing and drives me up the wall. Squidge has plenty of symptoms of Asperger’s, though I haven’t sought a diagnosis (yet), Tink is about as normal as me (ahem) and I wouldn’t change a hair on any of their heads.
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