It used to be a habit of mine several years ago to make up stories about myself when meeting strangers I would never see again. Fun, harmless, and usually transparent. We used to do it all the time, I'm sure we all have. I have been a casting scout, a vet, a sculptor, a soundtrack editor, a writer, and on and on. The less I had to do in my real life the more involved the (funny to me and my friends) stories got. After taking about a year off from any kind of work at all, I took a job building skateboards and merchandising bikinis at a local shop. I was by far the oldest employee and had several kids looking up to me. Because I told them lies. Really. Funny. Lies. This blog is meant to be a extension of one of those lies.

I told them I was writing a book called Letters To Nora. As in Nora Ephron. It was a collection of letters and essays to famous people starting with one to Nora Ephron for setting up an entire generation of women to be disappointed with their love lives because of Sleepless In Seattle blah blah blah... The more I told the story the more involved the book got. I had to quit the job so that I wouldn't have to write the book.

Now I'm a just gonna blog 'bout it. And I kinda wanna get more map hits than my Mum. Ha!