You don’t want to get me talking, you’d never get a word in edgewise, and probably fall asleep.
But not from boredom, I promise you.
But the book of my life is still inside my head, many chapters still waiting to be written.
Like the fantastic trip to the Far East to meet my five mothers-in-law.
Like the horrid part that had me and everyone else in the writing class in tears – ours was the only class with Kleenex boxes on the table.
Like bringing up my wonderful three sons.
Like the adventures around the world with my best and last husband. And more already planned.
Like my research and final papers for my BAhonors degree in American Studies (SW focus) and Native American minor. Over 14 years and a graduate at 67.
Like meeting the daughter, and granddaughter, of Ernest Thompson Seton, whose books I read as a child, and now as an adult live near Seton Village, New Mexico.
Like my ‘second home’ at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center and all the fine friends I’ve made there as a volunteer for 27 years.
And now to blog, and write someone else’s story; my father, Stan Watkins. So I’d better get on to that and stop talking.