Okay, I've put little to zero thought in naming this thing. I just can't get my creative or witty brain juices flowing. So to explain my "current," yet subject to change, blog I must give you some schema.
When I thought about a great name I just immediately thought about my childhood. When thinking about life relations (aka writing a blog about my life) we always seem to resort back to what we know a lot about, what we're good at, what we're interested in, etc. Well, I resorted to a time and a place in my life; a memory if you would. Each time I think about this event, it makes me smile, occasionally laugh, but always comforts me.
The short (or maybe not so short...we'll see if I waste words or make more words that spark your interest to read on) story goes like this...I was about 5 or 6 years old and my brother and I were sitting in my mom's white buick park avenue with navy blue, velvet-like seats (which, by the way, were incredibly comfortable). This car was the real deal when it came to traveling...I could fall asleep for days in the back seat and not realize we spent the past entire weekend at the beach house. It was 1,000,000 times better than the "Grey Ghost" which was NOT ghost-like AT ALL. It was grey Chevy Classic Caprice (early '80's). Here's a similar picture just to get the amazingly horrific image in your mind...note: although the rims are impressive, they were not included on dad's ride. Just think...you, a kid, rolling up to elementary school in this to have your safety patrol "friend" open the car door for you. Let me just say, it wasn't long until I convinced my parents that walking would be more beneficial for my health as well as their wallets. Shew!
Back to the origins of this story...
Ryan and I were inside mom's buick waiting on something or someone...maybe Paw Paw. He was around a lot more after his first stroke. Anyway, the details of why we were in the car didn't matter. It was raining and had been raining for a while; long enough to get the ground super soggy. We weren't saying much to each other, but I remember my eyes were so fixated on the passenger's window. I'd watch the water drop and roll down the window, picking up other stuck-on droplets on the way down. I don't know if I wanted to talk to my brother or if this comment was me just thinking out loud. So, as I looked at this one big droplet on the window I spoke, "Look, it's a piece of wet." The thing is, it made complete sense in my mind and I didn't understand why Ryan was dying laughing in the back seat. I was just being very technical with my comment. Like a "piece" of paper is individual; by itself; on it's own. And water, well (no pun intended) is wet. So it makes perfect sense. why can't a "water droplet" be a piece of wet? It can! I guess I've never been politically correct. So, this blog is NEVER going to be politically correct...so enjoy.