Seriously, I would much rather talk about you.

But it’s the “About Me” section. So I have to say something me-related.

Ahem…

My life as a writer began with the words, “Dear Diary, Scott Wilson sat beside me in the cafeteria today. There were no other seats left. He is soooo cute.”

After cutting my teeth on diary entries and letters home from camp, I went on to write many, many words for my college newspaper, a couple of political campaigns, some weekend TV news anchors, an art museum, and a governor.

I’ve been writing as long as I can remember – mainly because it’s about the only thing I can do. Except have children. I somehow managed to give birth to two.

So of course, I started writing about them.

I’ve done a lot of oversharing in a humor column for our hometown Connecticut weekly, titled Tales from the Crib, starting way back in 2007. (Back then, the “crib” was literal. Now it’s hip-hop vernacular.)

Caution: Do not place these plastic bags over your head or toss your children down Niagara Falls in a barrel. Both will totally ruin your Christmas card photo.

But all these years later, I am still writing about my boy child, 12, my girl child, 10, and occasionally my sweet husband (although I try to leave him out of it) – always with a healthy dose of self-deprecation, an occasional moral to the story, and hopefully increasing levels of discretion. (I no longer discuss anyone’s bowel movements. Be glad that’s over.)

I love (in no particular order): words, book clubs (I’m in two), ironic hair salon names, bluegrass music, the Waffle House, cats (despite the fact that we have a lunatic dog, a rabbit, two fish and no cat), Emma Thompson, Tina Fey, Dolly Parton, thin pizza and fat biscuits, rooting through a good junk shop, Jesus, and of course, long walks on the beach*.

(*Children are optional).

This blog is just a new and improved outlet for all the old-fashioned yammering on I’ve been doing. This is my new place to laugh with you at the stupid stuff of family life …and maybe even the occasional bumper sticker or roadside church sign.

So let’s do this.

It’s yammer time.