Ok, so the good news is my dad reads my blog. (Hi Dad!). On the other hand, he pointed out that my last blog entry wasn’t really how my journey to becoming an author (first book here) really began. He reminded me that the idea of making up stories involving my sister dates back a bit further than just a few years ago.
And, hence this photo from when we were young and cute. Yea, Sis, sure, you’re still cute. By the way, those flowery patterns on the left of the picture are not a fancy background. They are actual clothes worn by other members in our family. And it wasn’t even a costume party. At least I didn’t have to wear those groovy 70’s outfits. At least not out in public.
My sister looks innocent here, but she managed to get me in trouble time and again. For example, there’s the time that I got in trouble for carving my name into a wood side-table in the family room. I tried to pin the blame on my sister, who clearly had tried to get me in trouble AGAIN. I thought this was a winning argument until my mother pointed out that my sister couldn’t write yet. Thwarted! Clearly it was her fault for not being more advanced. This does prove that I was writing at a young age and making up stories.
My dad also reminded me that Marty’s poor judgment when it comes to emergency responders might run in my family. When we were very little, but not wearing 70’s dress clothes, he was out of town at a conference. Those were in the days before cell phones existed (aka pre-historic). My mother called and caught him one evening in his hotel room to tell him there was a fire in our kitchen. When my dad asked her what the fire department had said about it, she replied she hadn’t called them yet. With some urgency in his voice, he told her to hang up and call them. We survived and the kitchen did too. But the chicken was ruined.
What’s a crazy story you remember from your youth? Or one that set you on the road to doing something you love when you got older? Post your story in the comments.