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Random • Curious • Shapeshifter

Her Story

Paula J Cassidy

Dealer Representative for, Motocross Mom, Author, Professional Sammich Maker

Paula's Story :

It has been said, according to my teen children, that the alien face emoji is so not cool.

I use it ever single time I text them.

My third child – my youngest, who was blessed with Down Syndrome – says that she loves me because I make her bacon.  This is surely a good reason to love somebody.  My oldest two claim I love her more.  I do tend to divide the bacon unequally.

What have I done with my life.   Fifty years.

I’v played Pavarotti in my ’78 Chevy Nova.    I’ve traveled Egypt solo on nothing but a dime and a large spoonful of faith in humanity.  I’ve column wrote sarcastic personal anecdotes about my husband and our rural farm life for the Community Press, allowing thousands to explore the chaotic closest inside my head and decide that their own lives weren’t so insane after all.

I’ve lived, breathed and devoured the car business in a time when men were the dominators and I was that blonde in the back corner of the dealership.   Ya. Her.

I was Bruce Lee for a time, wearing bruises on my limbs like trophies and big 80’s hair under a sparring helmet.  Men would decide if they should let me win, for my self-esteem.

I insisted they fight like men and would consequentially last about 7 seconds.  Not unlike bull riding.

Still the blond in the corner.  Ya. Her.  With lots of self.  And esteem.

Once upon a time I drove across Canada and the US and hung out with street people and dumpster dived and drank $200 wine and read Hunter S Thompson aloud on the open road.

I’ve jumped out of a plane, read the bible, studied the Qur’an, played Marilyn Manson so loud in my car that I almost blew the speakers and had a lamb die in my arms.

I am annoyed by anyone the squishes toothpaste in the middle.

I’ve expanded and contracted with the universe.

I’ve done some stuff.

Ya. Her.