Here I Go Again

It seems that every time I get all geared up to put more time into this blog, my neck and shoulder issues force me to choose between it and my other writing project. I haven't gone away, nor will I, but there is good reason for me to not post as much, and if you are interested in the whole story, read on.

Barbie Dolls and Princesses

Before I go on my rant, I feel I have to preface it by saying that, for the most part, I was not a normal little girl. Mom went into motherhood imagining that I would, like all little girls, love playing with dolls and dressing up. She instead ended up with a little girl that pitched a fit if she had to wear a dress, and knew more about baseball by the age of four than most little boys do by the time they are old enough to play it. I had a room full of dolls, given to me for birthdays and Christmas that I never played with. When I overheard my mother telling a friend that she had given up on buying dolls for me because I ignored them, I thought I would give playing with dolls a go because I felt a little sorry for her. What did I do? I stripped them naked, hung them by the neck from the curtain rods, and taped signs to their butts that read, "Help me." I thought it was great fun. My mom, at this point, was not overly surprised, but never again did she complain.