
How did I become a pompous ass? I am not sure. I wasn’t raised to be arrogant, quite the opposite.

How did I become a pompous ass? I am not sure. I wasn’t raised to be arrogant, quite the opposite.
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I was born into an annexed region. I could have been Italian, but because of my Grandfather’s stubbornness, and because part of our farm was on the right side of the mountains/border, I came into this world as an Austrian girl. I am also American, by choice and love. The love for the man I met so many decades ago, who I followed to his country, who became my husband. Whose language I learned, whose passion I share. I am an American-Austrian, an Austria-American, a female version of Schwarzenegger. I am an Austrian in America.
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When you write, you let it all go; when you publish, you set yourself free. You wish for your book to get wings and fly into the homes (and tablets) of many:

We drove by the house after another disappointing meeting with a landlord, who had answered our ad:
Three dogs are looking to rent a house.

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I have spent the last week arguing with myself because I can’t argue with my friend. Her mind is made up. She will not fight cancer.

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Of course, I can read, but according to a very nice gentleman on YouTube, I cannot read the way I should when you record an audiobook. My eyes are faster than my mouth; they are not in sync.

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Not so long ago, I told my neighbor to stop texting me. I did the same with all my students and customers. I asked them to text me only in emergencies, like when the house is on fire, or if they wanted to reschedule your appointment because they don’t want to drive in ice and snow—which I understand.

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The universe in its infinite wisdom has decided that I will be cheated out of LIFE by 15 years?
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A billboard on a highway, showing my book, oh, how I would love that. To bring awareness to a subject we don’t like to talk about. The Unhoused! I was one of them. I am THEM.

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Currently, my biggest challenge is promoting my book. If it weren’t for the charity organizations that will (could) benefit from my future book sales, then I would probably say, “Well, WTH, I wrote a book. I published it! Well done,” and pat myself on one of my shoulders and forget all about it.