: About Me

What does a Writer Do? It's snapping, crackling, whipping cold. While fighting with the frozen door-handle, the wind flings my hair like a hair dryer gone mad. Strands end up in my mouth and I don't like the residual taste of shampoo. Maybe I should go back to using lemons. The lock gives and I sit in the car. It's such a nasty storm and I wonder if I should go out or not. I make a mental check list of the emergency supplies in the trunk and decide I'll be okay. As I pass the neighbor, he waves at me from behind his snowblower. He's bundled up and the only thing I can see on his face is th...