Ratios and Perspective

I'm addicted to numbers and I love math. I also love words so I'm trying to decide if that makes me a little smart or ultra-weird. No need to comment.

Writing is hard. If it's not raw and honest, it's not worth doing. There's also a balance so you don't throw too many people "under the bus," as the husband calls it.

Let me share some numbers with you:

For every thought and experience with the oldies, there were at least 10 where I resprected their privacy and did not write about it.

For every childhood memory of the daughter or the baby, there are 100 moments of glory or difficulties that are private and stay only with me.

For every fun story I've shared about the husband and our endless idiosyncrasies, there are 10,000 tears shed in laughter and pain that remain my memories. Mine alone.

For every friend who has leaned on me, I have put 100 lbs. more pressure on him or her.

For every vignette I share about my parents (who continue to be supportive of their little nutcase,} the five phone calls a day are not enough.

For everyone who thinks I've thrown them under the bus, I hope you realize that occasionally that three-ton bus is running over me.

My conscience is clear. Ten-four.