Peyton Kathleen

 The first Thanksgiving we shared together as a married couple, we went to College Station to watch A&M play LSU. My parents are big Aggies and always do a tailgate, and his family had a suite we could sit and watch the game in. I had become very close with a gorgeous, female coworker whose family was in California, so we invited her to come to College Station with us for the holiday fun. It was only going to a day long trip, since CS is only about a 90 minute drive from Houston.  At this time, we had a German Shepherd puppy, so we hired a lady to come to the house and let the dog out while we were gone.  The day started off really fun. We took my coworker friend to the iconic A&M bars, had a few drinks around Northgate, then headed over to my parents tailgate. I knew my husband planned on getting hammered, as usual, so I would be the one driving us home after the game. I had a few beers throughout the afternoon, never getting tipsy, and of course, did not drink d...

I always wanted to be a writer. I started a writing a bit with this blog in 2004, but wasn't disciplined or consistent with the practice. Recently, I have wanted to start writing again, but I felt it was "too soon". The stories I have don't have lessons learned. I still don't feel the cosmic understanding of why things happened to me the way they did. I do not have any words of wisdom to impart, no advice worth giving. Then I thought: is there room in the writing space for my stories that were just... shitty experiences? Or does the story need to end with my enlightenment that I then pass on to the reader? Is there a place for my voice, cynical but happy but broken but funny?   Am I allowed to write my stories, express the outcome, and then in a few years look back and realize I was way off, completely wrong, and life wasn't done yanking me around yet? We will find out. Because my writing has once more begun.