Seeing the world through yogurt-covered glasses
All Hallow’s Birthday
Today is my mother’s birthday.
I won’t bother calling her. In fact, I’m never going to call her again.
Instead, I’m introducing a series of posts lasting one week beginning tomorrow.
None of it was written for her.
It was all written for myself.
Happy birthday, mom.
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I’m John Metta, writer, hydrologist, programmer, Irish flute and banjo player, cyclist, brewer, and a digger of all things tech, and all around friendly guy. Nestled snugly in the Columbia River Gorge in a town called Hood River, I survey the world as my own personal playground. Circle me on Google+