The misadventures of me - prologue

My mother has been after me since I was little to write my life stories as I see them. You see, I have a knack, a gift, for bringing drama to everything. I see things as a movie, all of the boring stuff cut out, the action and conflict heightened. My stories are all true as seen and experienced by me. But did I listen to my mother? No

My friends, my colleagues, my students have suggested to varying degrees that I should write down the stories I relate to them. I have procrastinated. I don't have time. Writing a story is a long process of editting, re-writing, fine tuning. I just don't want to drag my stories through the mud - they might lose something.

About the only people who don't want me to write are my children -because I might embarass them if any of their friends, colleagues, co-workers read these stories. My ex-husband - for obvious reasons and my current husband -because he doesn't get my self-degenerating, sarcastic sense of humor.

The other problem with writing my stories has been - they're fairly short and wouldn't make for a decent book.

But today, I realized, I'm starting to forget my stories. It could be old age, lack of sleep or the fact that there are too many stories vying for room in my memory. If I don't get some of them written down, they'll be lost forever. So here I am sharing them on the internet for not just my friends and family to read and chuckle, but I'm sharing them with the whole world. So my children - everywhere you go - you could potentially run into someone who has read about the time you fell in the toilet.