Can you burp your national anthem at 13, holding six guys at bay who want to date you but one is too short, the other doesn’t use acne cream and a few are possible candidates if they act right?

Does your moving company know you at 40 better than your family?  In your constant relocations, do you leave boyfriends behind you like discarded furniture?

Would you put Optimus or Decepticon symbols on the background of your mobile phone screen?

In writing a book-sized story, where one wants to place an interesting character, would a muse inspire you with her minor in fluids and her major in propulsion systems for a master’s degree?

What about the blue-eyed dancer who saved a song for you on the parquet at the mill while you were enjoying a gravel dance floor with your wife next to an old gravel quarry?

Speaking of parquet, would your insurance company drop you after a claim against water-damaged wood flooring in your house, forcing you to buy expensive home insurance?

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Every one of these questions is a good theme for a short story.

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A name like Gabriella is enough to push one into writing a song for the ages.  I’ll compose that melody soon.

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How many people have met their second spouses at their twentieth secondary school graduation reunions?

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Sometimes, one states the obvious and, sometimes, one writes on universal themes to allow room for wandering imaginations.

I wrote myself into my own novel, a wish that few are granted, and now that I want to get out, I can’t.

Some say that God is a loving god.  I know better.  God has a sense of humour that sometimes includes love.  Occasionally, God is simply the mysteries of the universe yet to be described scientifically.  Usually, God is a character in its own story that likes to grant wishes to others, no matter how mundane or bizarre.

Do you like to swing?  Swing dance, that is?

Me, I’m a salsa dancer at heart.  More intimate.  Less flailing around.  Like an exotic chocolate – rich, thick, memorable on the tongue.

Swing is the exercise that allows me to enjoy the calorie-heavy taste of the dessert on the dance floor called salsa.

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Don’t call your government changes “austerity.”  Euphemisms are free for the taking – use the ol’ positive mental attitude vocabulary words and call them “lifestyle enhancements” or some such, especially while you’re reorganising.  Remember, it’s not “bankruptcy” anymore; it’s “debt consolidation.”  They’re not creditors; they’re financial investors with a keen interest in your monetary wellbeing.  Creative bookkeeping is a high art, not a low crime.  Okay, maybe that last one is getting carried away. 😉

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I owe a debt of gratitude to many people, including the bus drivers last night who transported us from the Huntsville Hospital carpark to the Moon Over Three Caves charity event; the Publix employee who cut up fruit into a bowl by request; Michael, Michelle, Connie and Shelby; Redstone Arsenal gate security personnel; and more this tired guy can’t remember easily on an early Sunday morning.