Ninja Chick

Okay, some of you have been reading me for years, and through reading my drivel for years, you may think you have come to know me. And you have seen a side of me, to be sure. But if you pass me in the produce isle of your local supermarket, I doubt you would recognize me. If we chatted in the waiting room of the local clinic, you would not say, "She reminds me of Leesa."

I started this blog to work on my writing, but I also needed an outlet to write the crazy ass stuff that I have in my brain. And those who know me at work, don't get to see that stuff. In fact, my husband sees it infrequently as well. Maybe that is his loss; I don't know.

I don't envy people with multiple personalities (or now, dissociative identity disorder), but occasionally it would be really cool to take on another personality. Occasionally, I would want to be someone else. For instance, I would want to be ninja chick.

Now, I am not talking old school ninja. A few months ago, I was staying overnight in a hotel, and there was a show on cable. Discovery, History Channel type of show. It talked about the early ninjas. I think they were monks or something. And I am not angling at being a clergy person with a bad 'tude.

I want to be a ninja who doesn't take anything from anyone. Postman is too slow at the post office, and I bust some cool ninja move. Yeah, speed things up, and don't ask me if I want any stamps!

At the 15-items-or-less check-out line, putting a little fear in the middle-aged man who thinks his 25 items and his time is a bit more valuable than the woman behind him with two screaming children and the carton of milk and sugar cereal.

At the movie theater, I would do a little karate chop to the neck of the 6' 2" guy with the cowboy hat that he won't take off. Hi-yah! Take that from the ninja chick.

Pardon me, I have had a bit more caffeine than I normally do on a Friday. We ninja chicks sometimes roll that way.