boy do I want to blab...tattle...spill the beans...upset the apple cart...sing like a canary.
I'm not good at keeping secrets, and I've one that has been building up like a volcano. The question is can an old lady keep her lips sealed a tiny bit longer, or is she going to implode?
Aren't old ladies supposed to be sitting in rocking chairs, a cat in their lap, a dog at their hip, a ball of yarn on the floor, crocheting going on?
Why, then is this old lady harboring perhaps the biggest secret in her life? I'm tremendously excited about what is about to happen, yet this secret is very terrifying, too. There is the possibility I could end up...eating crow...crying uncle...throwing in the cards...knuckling under.
I don't know. I kind of like living on the edge, and have off and on, over the years of my life. Sometimes I think I've been kind of a Renaissance Woman. Living life on a ledge, it's kind of exciting, adrenalin pumping; of course it is always good to look over edge and find those handsome, brave firemen there on the ground with their net; nonetheless, having the courage to put oneself out there to begin with is a pretty extraordinary experience.
Today I feel like the kid on a teeter-totter you know, the one that stands up in the middle and controls which kid will be up, which kid will be down...or if both kids will be stuck with none of their feet touching the ground. I'm not only the kid in the middle but the kid on either end as well...my fate is in my own hands...hmmm, I guess that means I can't lose...no matter what, part of me will always be a winner.
So, even though there are certain odds I could be heading for a fall...hitting a wall...having a ton of bricks fall on me I intend to proceed without caution...to throw the sheets to the wind...to let the chips fall where they may.
Just three more sleeps, three more sleeps and I can... tattle...spill the beans...upset the apple cart...sing like a canary.
Frankie does not think I can last. What do you think?