Paris Cafe

Image by Mr. Mystery via Flickr

If  I had a nickel for every time someone started warbling that annoying song from the Music Man, I would not be sitting here writing this blog. Oh, no. I’d be in Paris, sitting at an outdoor cafe, sipping champagne and peoplewatching. I’d be tapping on my netbook, keeping notes of my days, to send back to the States to have published in my syndicated column and pulling in Big Bucks for doing so.

But, alas. Here I am. Where I’ve hung my hat and called home, chronologically, is:

Gary, Indiana/Denver, CO/Bloomington-IU/Gary/San Antonio, TX/Gary/Hammond, IN/Bloomington-IU/Clarendon Hills, IL/Downers Grove, IL/Galena, IL/Platteville, WI/Galena, IL/Chesterton, IN/Porter, IN/Chesterton, IN/Cottonwood, AZ.

So, as you can see, I am a midwesterner at heart,  except for temporary blips in Colorado and Texas.

I now live in the Southwest, near my exceptionally spectacular older son, and sadly, far from my spectacularly exceptional younger son who is still back home in Indiana.

Interests? I have too many to mention. Top on my list right now is staying cool.

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