Paris in Montana

For the people who don't know me....
  "Paris" was my nickname in highschool.  How did I get such a nickname?  Well, before I had ever even heard of Paris Hilton or her slutty escapades, I loved the idea of going to Paris.  What wasn't to love?  And I had a shirt that said "Paris".  So, when I made friends with a drunken old train tramp who lived under a tree down on the backroad of the little town I lived in, he couldn't remember my name.  But he could remember my favorite t-shirt.  And so he asked me, listened to me talk about how some day I was going to Paris.  I was going to learn french.  I was going to see the Eiffle Tower (i'm sure I spelled that wrong).....etc, etc, etc.  So he dubbed me Paris and the name stuck.
  I spent quite a lot of time under that tree with that old man (as did quite a lot of the other kids in town).  Enough to have certain rediculous rumours started about my friendship with him and for the cops to come visit him and threaten to chase him out of town.  But it didn't stop me.  I loved sitting and listening to him tell me which train was going to where and when it would arrive.  He had the most unusual friends...and they were all fun.  He spared no crude comments on account of me being a "innocent, young, girl" and instead frequently told me tales of whores in Spain, drunken debauchery, how he broke his penis in a train car door, his distaste for unwholesome peircings etc.  And though he was often drinking by 9 am, he was one of the most honest and caring friends I ever had.

Now....years later, I have moved on in life to become a wife, mother of 2 boys, a massage therapist and a myriad of other things I am sure.  This blog is my attempt to share that myriad with whomever wants to see it.  Its my attempt to get my thoughts and ideas, somewhat, organized.  And, as I am exceptionally opinionated, chime in my 2 cents worth when I feel like it.  So there you have it....Paris in Montana. :)