Semi-Daily Scribbles

It's the inner child who jumps up and down, waving from across the Mighty Wide. The inner child is the one who holds up the flashlight and signals for the other Clubhousers to set down their briefcases and mortgages, and dive headfirst into the Chocolate Sea. Because, you see, I had a real tight grip on who I was when I was six. When you've lost the rhythm, can you ever pick up a drum again?  As a kid, there were no limits. As a kid, I had all the answers I would ever need. I'm having a tough time remembering how to get back to basics. If only I could catch that kid, I’d be banging on lids until raindrops turned into wax lips. Now that's what I call work.

Come out. Come out. Wherever you are.