Bereft and Befuddled

For a veteran news junkie such as I am, the question must be asked: How do we learn to live in a world without Tim Russert?

The face of Oscar the Grouch, and the heart of Elmo. (Wow, I appear to be having a flashback.)

This is someone who will not be easily replaced. Pity the poor newscaster who attempts to fill his shoes.

Every time I look at my own dry-erase whiteboard, I will envision Tim Russert with his tallies of delegates. This will be a strange election year (well, it would have been anyway) without Tim's insights and analyses.

Happy trails to you, Tim Russert. Boy, will you ever be missed!

Ready or not...

So this is my opportunity to speak my piece, put it out there, let you get to know me. In for a dime, in for a dollar, they used to say, so here we go.

I think of myself as a humorist, but perhaps I'm kidding myself. If you ask me if I'm a poet, I'd say iamb.

I'm a freelance writer who has avoided the blogging format, despite my enjoyment of reading others' blogs. I'll post some of my work as soon as I figure this out. In the meantime, I now have a blog. I blog, therefore I am.

I'm a baby-boomer, married to an engineer (slide rule, not choo choo), mother of four (two mine, two his), and grandmother of two. My husband and I are celebrating fifty years of marriage: twenty-five for him, seventeen for me, and eight together. He's thinking of retiring, but first he has to prove that he has tired in the past. I've established my solidarity with the sage words of Rosalyn Carter (former First Lady, if you're under 40), "For better or for worse, but not for lunch." Maybe he'll keep working a little longer...