One of the amusing things about my family is that it explains why I am so strange. I seem to contain much of my strangeness on this blog, but every once in a while, it gets out…
For example, I recently wrote the following to my Grandma in response to a misunderstanding she had about the WISB podcast project (i.e., the donation tier):
I’ll write a character *based* on you, which means you’ll likely be a talking frog named Bethel from Ferngarden-upon-Erethen. But that will be up to you. How interested are you in being a giant talking frog?
To which she said this:
Me a FROG what a novel idea. I know so little about them
I know that they are toadly great
Are hoppy most of the time
Jump willing into new and different situations
They love their pad
They slurp their food
Eat most of the meals on the fly … or is that the fly
Go to great lengths …orally … for most of their meals … sometime without moving
Can be environmentally friendly ….. they are green for the most part and are a super insect abaters.
I will concider being a frog BUT only if I don’t turn into something fluffy and cute if a tall dark and handsome stranger kisses me
Can you change the name to Bethellda it sound a little classier and you know me I’m all about couth and culture.
Do you see now why I have become a very strange 27-year-old man?
(Chapter Thirteen is on its way. My sister is currently staying here as part of her “get to know my brother so I can annoy him better” vacations. But the chapter is coming!)