Wrangler Dani

I’m tweeting. I know. I know. Stop shaming me and just follow my 160-character rants, ok?

“If you care about something you have to protect it. If you’re lucky enough to find a way of life you love, you have to find the courage to live

Yes, I stole this. From him. What I was listening to when I began this post: Rush Limbaugh. Don’t judge. What I am drinking right now: Pure Kona coffee=bliss. What

I’ve been thinking about life lately, about the relative smallness or largeness of it, and the things that make me frustrated or hold me back or keep me flirting with

I’m a bit over-zealous in my expectations. The slightest bit of chill in the air appears right after Thanksgiving, and I’m already in the throes of Christmastide, revelling in hope

I’ve heard through the blogging grapevine that it is, in fact, “delurking day” today. I’m pretty sure that the only lurkers I have are my beloved long-suffering and non-commenting relatives,

I’m sitting in the dark, lit only by the glow of my laptop and the colored lights from our baby Christmas tree.  The night feels settled and slumbering, as though

“Write without pay until somebody offers pay; if nobody offers within three years, sawing wood is what you were intended for.” Mark Twain

I have an irrational fear. I’m so afraid that I will have spent a great portion of my life and passions on something that I’m not good at and never

I know, I know. I have not been here in 12 days, a fact that is as distressing to me as I’m sure it is to you, my Internet-peeps.  Or