First, there's me. (Not that I'm any more important than any other crew member, but hey, I'm doing the writing!) This is me. It is. Really. Except that's my third birthday and that's been a few years ago ... back when I wanted to be a veterinarian. Sometime before kindergarten by which point I'd settled on becoming a Catholic priest. (Yeah. I had a very vivid imagination.) Luckily, by age 6 or 7, I decided I wanted to work for a newspaper. I managed to do that as both a reporter and later, an editor, for 12 years.
Maybe the doctor's bag and all those instruments set me on the path of my current tool obsession. Funny how much you already are the person you're going to be by the time you're 3!
She'd kill me if she knew this photo was here. So, if you tell her it's here, consider yourself NOT my friend.
Yeah, she doesn't look old enough for senior citizenship but she is. (Here's hoping I inherited THOSE genes.) Lots of people tell me we look alike and as I get older, I am starting to see it. A little. (If I tell the truth, this is where I admit that I really look more like my father to the point that if you cover up the hair on our respective school photos, the same face stares back at you. Scary!)
The mother is very talented. She can design in her head like no one I've ever met. Leave her in an empty house for 10-15 minutes. She'll give you every detail to make it look fabulous, right down to the switchplates.