Bird of Paradise

Hanna, my call-centre colleague, is a bird of paradise. Her mother is Malay and dad is Tunisian, and she is exquisite... She detected the writer in me. Well, that's not exactly true. Last month I started writing for our call-centre journal, téléscoop, and she was quite enthusiatice, in her suave, cool, exotic, finance-student sort-of-way. She smiled, her mascara-lash, dark beauty sort of crinkly smile, "I like your style. You should write a blog." A blog? Me? I am so undisciplined, not to mention that I work a 37.5-hour week, and I am the... mother.. of a crazy-gorgeous little Luna... All I can say is, why not? A few words here or there, what could be so bad. And as Anne Lamott put it, bird by bird...