Aaack, there's giant hairball in my throat!

When I'm whining all of the world is a stage. Without a doubt making you laugh reduces my mammoth problems to their rightful ittybittyness. A favorite hobby of mine is inspiring your laughter. In fact, I'd liken it to the rush a skydiver has when that other foot steps into 2,000 feet of solid air. It's my extreme sport.

If you're being wronged, I'm ready to listen and then shuffle off to a butt kicking. I'm relentlessly loyal and thou dare not be crossed. If you're happy, sad, indifferent, I'm a giant ear. Share and I'll laugh, cry and suffer a lack of commitment with you.

But when bad stuff happens to my family and me, my ability to speak evaporates. Suddenly, my inner ear starts screaming, "You sound like a bloody drama queen!" Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as that look of extreme concern on your face.

Don't get me wrong, I totally appreciate my friends and family and the fact that they care. Hell, I'm tickled as heck to have friends and family who care. How lucky is that? But, okay, when the house comes down around me and whatever the worst is has happened, I loose my skills.

Nothing sounds right coming out of my mouth. Thank you? I appreciate your concern? Over used. I desperately want to find the exact word that will completely express exactly how much I appreciate you and the fact that you care. But, there I am, lost. Babbling. Graceless. I'd love to have some grace. I hope in my next life I do.

What I do have is a drive to fix it. Since I can no longer communicate, I instead become driven to fix it. Who? When? Where? How? What are the options? Line up those geese, Duckie, and let's get passed this.

I'm very empathetic and I'm totin' a load of compassion. Heck, I couldn't even handle the death of a 25 ft gorilla. King Kong was truly misunderstood. But, when I tell you something really sad has happened; please forgive my graceless, incoherent sentence fragments. I'm working on it. Really.