For Wuss And For All.

For some reason, there is a belief floating about, and I don't know why, that I am a wuss. For once and for all, I plan to put such preposterous-ness to rest.

Now let's be clear: I have given birth to two full-size babies, yes, without the use of an epidural or, in one ridiculous case, without the use of drugs of any kind, which is just silly.

Now let's be clearer: I have endured a brain explosion, or more precisely, a brain implosion, and yet I live to tell about it. In very lively verbage, yes, because that's how I roll.

Now let's be clearest: I have removed an actual bullet from my arm using only my teeth.

Note: No, I haven't.

So, I'm in Fargo for Thanksgiving. And it's cold. Some people, wusses yes, may even call it frigid. Sure, it's negative-something but I can handle it. In fact, I wish to experience the negativity and prove I am not a wuss, once and for all.

So, I decide to go outside and make a snowman, but I change my mind on account of I lost my mittens. I decide to go outside and make snow angels, but I change my mind on account of laying in the snow seems a bit silly. Because getting snow down one's pants is not ideal.

So, I decide on the next-best non-wussy thing to do.

Yes, that is my hand. Sticking out of the doggy door.

I'm no wuss.

Heck, yes!