cluck cluck cluck

It's time for me to light my candle and stand in front of you. My name is Me, and I'm a chicken.

It's learned chicken-ness that I've been sharpening for quite a while. So as far as chickens go, I'm quite proficient.

Someone backed me into a corner earlier this week. Or maybe it was last weekend. Either way, one of my friends called my bluff. Friends are good for that kind of thing sometimes.

The long and short of it? I'm toying with an idea for a children's story.

This friend would be tickled to know that I couldn't sleep the night that he confronted me. Even with a precious sleeping Zoloft by my side -- I got up to make a few notes. Okay, it's true that I've not done anything with it since then, but I have notes now. And I've thought about it during work. So that's good. I hope to turn the notes into more of a story after the new year.

And this morning I emailed a long-lost friend. This is a friend that my current friends don't even know. He had once-upon-a-time said that he would be interested in illustrating a story if I wrote it. But it's been a long time since we said such things, so I gave him an out if he didn't want to participate. And if he's out --- I'll be needing an artistic illustrator to help me create the next great masterpiece in children's literature... Or I'll have to change my story to write about something that I know I can draw.

Stick people have a bad rap these days.

And stick chickens look too much like peacocks.

The candle is lit. My name is still Me, and I'd like to upgrade my chicken status.