Night Owl Cards

Tonight, when tiny costumed villains and princesses are just beginning to fill the streets of my neighborhood, I will leave the house -- and a few bowls of candy treats -- to go to work. When I arrive home again, long after the little kiddies are sound asleep, I will search out those bowls of sugar joy and arrive upon ... One single remaining piece of Laffy Taffy ... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO...

At some point, probably during early high school years, my half-assed dream of playing baseball for a living died between wind sprints. "Do I really want to be doing this? I can't be doing this. I don't want to be doing this!" was basically the thought process behind the labored breathing. Not only did I realize that I wasn't good enough to play baseball -- too short and no arm in comparison to my peers -- but I simply didn't have the desire to go through the physical demands of playing a sport on a regular basis. Coach wasn't buying "but, but, but I already run during the game!" Sadly, I was only good enough and interested enough for the schoolyard. But so what? I had other interests. Those interests, unlike baseball, were substantial enough to find a career. I could write, or at least people told me I could. And that led to a career in writing. I could also play music, and although that never led to a career, the combination of ...