Last evening I attended a talk by a local author who also has a lot of cred on the national stage. Oprah knows about him and he’s not even fat. I used to read his thrice weekly column in our rag of a city newspaper when it was actually readable. I only put an F in front of the name now, and wanted to raise my hand and correct said author when he mentioned them. But that’s a gripe for another time. I hope. The Author has written a few really good books so I’ll forgive his past. Speaking of forgiveness, the retired priest who sat next to me at dinner needs some. He never stopped talking about himself!?$! Isn’t one of your job requirements to care about your flock?? My feathers were downright fluffy I so wanted to converse. People talk AT me alllll the time. No conversation. Even some of my Boomlennial bros. No give/take back/forth I’m fine/and you?? Drives me crazy and I don’t need help. But a priest? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Not their first, ahem, transgression #boyswillbeboys. Anyway, back to The Author. He said you don’t really have to have anything to write about. Eureka!! I’m in! I try to rep my Boomlennial brethren in all things brilliant, but sometimes I got nothin. Or I have a junior moment and my oh-so-fascinating diatribe poof. There should have been some interesting dinner conversation but the priest’s aluminum pan on his radiator was only outdone by his talk of his brown teeth. He did tell me my phone was my slave collar which was wrong on so many levels. I really just needed to talk to Suri because she would talk back. Novel idea! Short novel. But it’s coming…. #rightafterIgetbackfromthemoon