I ran this afternoon the obligatory 30 minutes, which is basically the "recovery run" for my current marathon training. I'm still dragging my feet about registering and buying my ticket to Greece. But I'm not stopping the training. I like the routine.
Today a news story popped up in my RSS feed about unique celebrity baby names. It got me thinking of the most unusual name I know: Scharmel. I tried to find the meaning of it on a baby name web site, but according to the site, no such name existed. So I Googled the name, like I've done many times before. I found out that the Scharmel I know still works for her church and she likes doing things like, oh, breathing and spending time with her son, who is now a police officer. Too bad he's not a cop in my hometown because I'd suggest he try to solve my father's murder case once and for all. He wouldn't have to look far; just go visit his mom. At her house. Where she lives and sleeps and eats and talks to friends and probably, dare I say, even laughs. I'm just going to put it out there: my former stepmother, Scharmel, is a murdering bitch.
The photo in this blog is me and my father and brother circa 1992 when I was 18. It was one of the last photos we have together.
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