Venting

Anyone who knows me knows I love to vent. I love to vent about everything and anything. I think that is why I like Maxine, the comic strip old woman. She loves to complain.

What do I like to complain about? I like to complain about how unorganized I am, how much weight I've gained in the past five years (OK, I can hear the "Oh please. Get real" from my friends). Granted it's only 10 pounds, but hey, it's 10 pounds and I have a bit of a round tummy that is evidence.

I also like to complain about all the people who honestly think I can solve their problems and make everything nice again because I'm a reporter. Trust me. I get phone calls and emails daily from people who really think I have some influence over judges, police officers, attorneys, city/county/state and federal officials. Many of them call me as a last resort. I'm the "media" so somehow I should be able to fix the problem by putting it out there for the public to read. What they don't realize is I'm not a superhero.

I'm me. Loretta. Wife. Mom. Grandma. Sister. Auntie. Daughter. Cousin. Niece. Friend. Reporter.

Notice, the label reporter is way down on the list. Me is up front.

I also lately like to whine about the weather. And it's not whether or not I should drink wine. Sorry I couldn't resist.

For those who don't live in Utah, rain has been constant for the past couple of months. We get a day of sunshine and then the clouds roll right back in and well, my back yard resembles a pond. The garden is waterlogged.

I'm not a rain person. I'm a desert rat. I learned this every time I've traveled to places where rain is a constant. I can't wait to get back to dry, dusty Utah.

I do like some rain. One of my favorite memories is taking a nap on my Grandma Dunn's couch when I was about 4 years old and listening to the rain fall on her tin roof that covered the back porch. It was one of the few times in my life I felt at peace.

OK, back to whining, complaining, venting, screaming, being generally ticked off. There's a whole list of things I could howl about,, but then you'd all complain I'm whining, belly aching or , griping too much.

So today my biggest complaint is trying to be the superhero I know I'm not. Really. I'm trying to investigate a story that could have some serious consequences. I know I will be going up against some big guns (men with lots of power, real guns, etc.) and it does scare me a tad --- just a tad. I actually like to tackle this stuff because it's just me, all 130 pounds, 5 feet 5 inches, 52 years old of me taking on the world.

So I'm going to head to the comic store I wrote about Tuesday, and buy a Batman action figure for my grandson and put it away for his 3rd birthday in September. It comes with Catwoman. Don't tell him. It's a secret.

Already I'm feeling like a Superhero! Superhero Gramala! Coming to save the day! (Which Superhero is that?)