Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Parrotheads...

Not that there's anything wrong with that, but perhaps taking my oldest daughter to her first Jimmy Buffett concert at the age of 3 wasn't one of my better ideas. Or maybe it was. She has a lot of fun. But she is also a bit obsessive about the lifestyle. Or maybe I just wish I could be similarly obsessive. Nah. What I wish I could be obsessive about is WRITING -- while relaxing on a beach somewhere with a cooler of boat drinks, of course .

She is turning 30 this week and is celebrating by sailing between uninhabited islands in the Grenadines with her similarly obsessed friends and an old salt named Cap'n Allen. I am celebrating by once again committing myself to the insanity that is the November tradition of writing a novel in a month. BWAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA........

What am I writing about? Haven't a clue. For that matter, I haven't a title, outline, or opening sentence either. The only thing I know for sure is that I plan on taking up where this blog left off 10 months ago - I want to write funny. If the rest of the world doesn't see it that way, so be it. I need a few good laughs.

Hoist the sails and tend to the rudder -- I feel a change in the wind...