Scene: A Denny’s style restaurant, only nicer and better tasting. Eating solo in a booth. The waitress, Kourtney, comes by to hand my the check and in the process sits down in the empty side of the booth. Oh yeah, this is a place I visit on a regular basis, so they’ve come to know me. I can only assume she sat down to rest her tired legs. Or maybe she was sick of me looking up her nose. Or I don’t know what. And don’t judge me for eating solo, jerk. It was early on a Saturday and no one wanted to wake up.

Me (to waitress): Since you’re sitting down, can I ask you a question?

Kourtney: Yeah.

Me: It’s nothing weird…

Kourtney: (laugh) OK…

Me: What’s the name of that girl, the one who’s the hostess?

Kourtney: Oh, that’s Savanah.

Me: Samantha?

Kourtney: SAVANAH. Like the, big deserty area in Africa?

Me: She’s african?

Kourtney: (Laughs) No. Her name is Savanah.

Me: Oh. That’s cool. She married?

Kourtney: No, I’m pretty sure not.

Me: Excellent.

Kourtney: But she is 17.

Me: Oh.

Kourtney: Should I tell her you asked?

Me: No, that’s OK. I’d rather not do any jail-time this month. I’ve got a vacation coming up.

Welcome.

When I was in college they taught us how to use WordPress as a way to blog. It was an effort to help us understand how the landscape of the journalism world was shifting to digital first, paper second.

Oh, yeah. I studied at the Cronkite School at ASU. If that clarifies things for you.

I’ve spent the last year out of the industry, working, making that sweet coin.

That’s fine, and all. But I don’t have a creative outlet. Well, I didn’t.

So lets do this thing, yeah?

I’ll have a better web address soon. I just need to have a cup of coffee first.

-Mel