Phoebe Kate

My daughter J.J. has started dating someone who lives in the Midwest.  I’ve only met him once, very briefly, before they were boyfriend/girlfriend.  From what she’s told me about him, he strikes me as a very fine young man.  That impression was recently confirmed when he sent me an email by way of formal introduction.  He chatted about how much he looked forward to us getting to know each other and then he said something that blew me away:  “Ask me anything about myself you want.  My life is an open book.”  

I’ve never heard anyone say that before.  

And then I began to think: how many of us can?    

Could I?

Yes, I decided.  I could.  My life could be read by all. 

Except, umm, maybe skip over pages 17, 24, 33, 46, 55 and 56.

Oh, and there’s a couple of chapters you don’t need to read, either.        

Okay, maybe it’s more than a couple.

Hey, how about I send you the Reader’s Digest condensed version of my life?  That’ll work just fine for us both, I think.

–phoebe kate