Say What You Mean, Don’t Be Mean When You Say It

Reasons to shut up and suck it up, Buttercup.

I used to be strongly opinionated. I didn’t have grey areas in my thinking. Everything was black and white. Right versus wrong. That’s how I was raised. Also, the clothing the nuns wore at the Catholic school I attended for eight years was black and white. It was ingrained in my very soul.

Welcome to the real world, Missy

I was in for a rude awakening once I graduated from high school. I thought I was done learning. Hell, I did it for twelve years and foolishly thought that the mystery of life would fall in my lap.

Dad and Mom gave me a car for graduation. A 1962 Chevy Belair. I knew how hard Dad worked to support our family and money was tight. So I hugged him and Mom when they handed me the keys. My brothers paid $100 at a junkyard for it.

They tried to cover up rust with spray cans of paint. They used black paint on a tan car. There was paint overspray on the windshield, making it difficult to drive, especially at night and during the day when facing the sun. I thought it would be easy to clean off the paint with sandpaper…