One Wee Spark

"White lies" became a regular and normal part of my childhood. I've heard others tell stories about the elaborate tales of renovation that were built and concocted to keep friends and family away from the family home, the hoard. I was never that creative. I would say something along the lines of the house being a mess, believing that no one would truly suspect the truth--the house was a MESS! It hit me recently that I still have trouble telling the truth in situations where it really doesn't make a difference whether I tell the truth or not. It disturbs me to think that telling a half-truth or painting a beautiful deception is not only easy for me, but that my moral compass does not readily stop me from doing it. Borrowed from Mark Pocan, WI representative, personal blog For instance, I have told a lie about my abilities in gymnastics and tumbling since I was a small child. I'm not sure how the lie first reared its ugly head, but like a zit that is touched

This hasn't been a bad week by any stretch, but my energy level has been nil since Wednesday afternoon. I don't know if it's because I had put so much energy into being right on the news interview, or because I donated blood that afternoon, or maybe it's just been a week with more need for energy than sleep obtained. It doesn't matter.