For the little girl who lives down the lane.

A year or so back, when I began writing the various stages of nonsense upon this shiny paper, I found to my surprise that people.....actually....read it.

Just my little contribution to the dumbing down of America and beyond.

But as you well know, if you write something, then people will, if they feel it necessary, write comments upon your writings.

And then, if you want, you can write about the writings about your writings. And so forth.

Well, my old friends, they support me. In my darkest hours, when I've written such unbelievable horsefeather about my mental state, they were always there to feed my ego and dry clean my soul.

It's the strangers that really get to me, though.
And one in particular.

I think she began to read this stuff because everybody else was. But she's been very nice to me; more than you can hope to expect from somebody that you've never met, this "friend of a friend of a friend."

I read her stuff, as well. I read them all, although I admit, I'm less likely to comment unless I can be reaaallllly funny. And lately, funny hasn't seemed really appropriate. But we've been through some similar things, then as now, and I find I really like this person, regardless of the fact that I don't believe I've ever met her in person.

So, here's what I'm getting at.

Hopefully, sometime in the future, there will be three words that mean everything.
Three. Little. Words.
And they won't be, "I love you."
They will be, "Let me help."

So.
What can I do for you?