My most important accessory these days is one of those healthy back bags with twenty some pockets. I sling the heavy bag over my shoulder everywhere I go. Tucked in each individual pocket, is a card for every opportunity from grandma to Enrolled Agent.
Queen Moll still rules her Red Hat Society chapter. Maybe it’s the the conspicuous red and purple attire, or seeing aging ladies in red hats and plucking bling that draws the interest. Once they observe the laughter and antics of our crowd, women by the hundreds beg for information. A flick of a card and they are on their way. We’ve been known to hand them out to men “for their wives.” And then there was the man who begged to join us once his estrogen kicked in.
Witts End Grandma and Grandpa will be on duty for a while. I made those cards and stuffed them in Little J’s pockets every day in case he wandered off. I told him to hand them out to all his friends so he’d get lots of play dates. It worked great until about 3rd grade. It was tolerated until Little J celebrated his 13th birthday and then suddenly he wasn’t little anymore. Now we fondly call him Mr. J. Except for a few hidden in the bottom of my bag, the cards have mysteriously disappeared.
Witt’s End? Well that became history when I renamed my blog Witt Bits. Witt’s End had a ring of finality, maybe not a good idea. It’s a long story – the one to be written.
As long as real work remains on my desk, the Enrolled Agent card will continue to be renewed. Speaking of work, I’m finding that writing is interfering with my money making opportunities. I’m getting old and tired. I want to retire sometime in the next decade or two. There may not be enough time to finish the trilogy of my life so I’m concentrating on that one perfect memoir. I have made that commitment. With a deadline. Sort of. Chapter One must be written within the next seven days or my memoir coach may send me off to seek another avenue.
Being a business card junkie and the ace of procrastination, I decide I simply must design another card. Conventions, conferences and classes are in the works and I need put on a new face. Problem is, what do I call myself? Blogger? Too casual. Writer? I used that one when I thought I might yield some magazine credits. Contributor? That went the way of ThemeStream.com (but not before I received a check for $72.38 for my penny-a-read stipend). Then I got an idea. Why not just call myself “Author?” After all I was paid for my work, once. Doesn’t that qualify? So here I am using the “A” word. Just don’t try to find me on Amazon… yet.