Who am I?

How existential of me to ask that.  And really, if I were philosophizing on my true meaning - my true reason for existence - then I think it would take up an entire book and not a blog entry.

No, the question is much simpler than that.

One of the ways I know to make money when I depart for my "epic journey of lateness" and explore the US in a motorhome (est.2015) is to write.  Yay! Writing.

Easy enough.

But how do you make money at it?  I don't mean $25 here and there, I mean $1000/month. Or more.  Well, I understand I need to establish myself as a writer in a freelance world.  I need to have stories and an angle and a friend in the publishing business.

Crap.

I actually need to work at this.

So where to start?  What do I know?  Always write about what you know.  Easy.

But what do I know?  Really know?

And that's where the problem seems to exist for me.

Here's what I know...REALLY know:
How to persevere
How to raise a child
How to be a single mom
How to live (or not live) with someone who has a terrible addiction
How to juggle life - not always successfully
I know what it's like to be withdrawn, what it's like to hide.  I know what it's like to pretend you are someone else.
I know the experience of acting - from a chorus role to the lead in a musical - and everything behind the scenes.
How to have a successful marriage
How to have a successful and angst-free divorce
How to be honest

But beyond that - I'm not an expert in anything.  I have my passions, but I don't consider myself to be an expert in any field.  I can tell stories and have a sardonic wit.  I can see the humor in just about everything.  I am the first to laugh at myself.  And I find myself a little afraid of everything around me.

Insecurity is a bitch.  If I were to look at myself on paper, without knowing it was me, I would be mightily impress with the strength of that woman.  But knowing it's me - I just know that I did what every other person in this world does - I put one foot in front of the other and move forward.  Sometimes through mud or windstorms, or blizzards, or floods.  Sometimes through the most beautiful of sunny days.

I am no different than anyone else.

Except I have a way to find my voice and the voice of others.  I have the talent to put that voice out there and allow my experiences to be heard.

Is that voice publishable?

Is there anything I can say that hasn't already been said? That someone wants to hear?

I have no idea.

And I don't think I will really ever know the answer to that unless I start to write from the heart.  Not a blog - but something more marketable. An article. An opinion column. Something to sell to a small paper or two or twenty or more.

Maybe a weekly piece would be enough to carry me forward as a writer and as a way to finance my adventure through space.  Maybe those stories on the road will become a future book (yes! even with pictures!), or at the very least, a small voice heard by a few souls who still read.

I understand that today is the day I need to figure it all out.  I can't wait until I'm on the road to test the waters.  The time is now...

The first step is always the most frightening. From my experience, the next few steps after that aren't so easy either...

My First Thanksgiving Turkey! (reprinted here for your pleasure!)

Back in the dark ages of my youth...I was about 20 and had my first "real" job. Well, they gave us a gift certificate at Thanksgiving time "for a turkey." It was really a $25 gift certificate to Safeway - but I thought I had to buy a turkey with it...so I did. It was 1980 and I bought a $25 turkey. 

I was single at the time. 

Didn't dawn on me to give it to a family...no I was going to cook my first turkey for me and my friend! Yeppers! 

So there we are in this tiny apartment kitchen opening this turkey...okay, I remembered my mom sticking her hands in the turkey and taking stuff out...so I did.

GROSS! I thought everything would be in a bag or something - I have no idea why. Then I didn't know what to do with the stuff I took out, so we put it in a dish then stuck it in the fridge. 

Step two. Stuff the turkey. 

Okay. This should be simple enough. We opened the box of Stovetop stuffing and poured it into the turkey cavity. Do you know how much Stovetop stuffing fits in the cavity of a $25 turkey? Lots!!! So we kept filling the cavity until it was full. YAY! Now let's cook the turkey!

It took forever. We thought we were suppose to baste the turkey with it's own juices...but there really wasn't any juice coming out, so we didn't. Somewhere...I probably should have called my mom...but no. I was 20 and living on my own. Why call mom????

Sometime around Christmas I think the turkey finally popped it's little red timer thingy...and so it was done.

Yum! We couldn't wait! 

Did you know you're suppose to let the turkey sit before you slice into it? I didn't. So we fired up the electric knife and butchered the hell out of that turkey. Oops! Forgot to remove the stuffing...I guess we'll just serve it from the turkey...YEA!!! Turkey and Stuffing!!!! WOOHOO!!! Let's eat!!!

Have you ever had cottonmouth? 

Have you ever shoved like an entire pack of crackers into your mouth and tried to chew them and swallow? Have you ever had all your bodies' moisture sucked right out of you?

Yeah. we did. Remember when I said we poured the Stovetop stuffing into the turkey's cavity? Did you know you're supposed to first mix the stuffing with water? 

We didn't. 

Wonder where all that turkey juice went that we were supposed to baste the turkey with? Yep. into the cavity. The wads of dried breading was sucking the literal life juice out of the turkey.

So there we were...CRAVING turkey and dressing with a frickin' huge turkey as dry as the sahara desert surrounded by piles of semi-moist turkey-fied breadcrumbs.

I didn't prepare another Thanksgiving meal until I was in my 40's...