The Blasted Plague of a Cold

As a current bout of some virus or other has stripped me of my speaking voice, I will endeavor to inscribe all of the nonsensical murmurings in my head to this forum for posterity.
Just how I came down with the blasted cold is a mystery to me. My not-so-alter ego who is obsessed with hand sanitation at work and has the unfortunate and selfish talent of avoiding the sick members of her family, does not see a reasonable explanation for this. Anyhow, this cold has left me with no voice and many thoughts to be spoken.
I have just taken a writing test. I am told I write like James Joyce. I have never read anything by James Joyce, though I intend to, if only to see for myself.
The more optimistic side of my persona agrees heartily with Jane Austen's Mrs. Bennet, "people do not die of colds." The constantly-fighting-for-dominance side of me begs to differ. Ms. Sunshine begins to remind me of all the pleasantries I have coming up. The wedding of a friend followed in a few months by my own. "Perhaps," the pessimist dryly remarks, "if, you do die, it will be a comfort to your mother to know it was in pursuit of Mr. Bingley." The rational part of me bespeaks the silliness of both the other two, all the while suggesting it may be time to put down Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. The rational side also suggests that the time has come to stop my jabberings and go to sleep, that the cold may be defeated and the mundane work may be attended to next week and tomorrow.

The beginning

A long time ago, in a land far, far above the city of Metropolis, in a tree so high the stars complained of the poking branches, there was a squirrel. The squirrel ate a jelly bean, complained of a sugar rush, and fell off the tree. Sometime in the decade of the squirrel's fall, I was born. I was not in the tree. Nor did I eat the jelly bean.


Seriously, this blog comes out of a fateful evening at a ladies sewing group. No, really. It does. I have a tendency to talk a lot and it came up that I should write. I don't honestly have the patience to write a book, but I have had some pretty strange adventures... including the ladies sewing group, but I'll get to that later! I already have a blog, but tend to be a bit stiff in my writing. So it was proposed that I write about my alter ego. My alter ego needs a name, by the way, something I am posing to my readers, but I'll reserve final judgement! So if you like random stories about pioneers and public transportation, dish soap shampoo and scissors whatever else pops into my head, please follow and subscribe. My life is pretty crazy, but it happens every day!