That's the sound of me leaping onto the bandwagon. My arrival will undoubtedly sound the blogging death-knell. I have a habit of scrambling onto a given wagon only to find that I'm the only one there, and the horses are heading out of Coolsville and into Dorkenvania. I still have bitter memories from 1979, when I spent all my allowance money on a CB radio, and the only people sharing airspace with me were actual truckers. Hardworking, sleep-deprived guys who were forced to listen to a bored ten-year-old bleating out the lyrics to "Convoy" at them.
Okay. Okay. I never owned a CB. The CB was owned by a friend, whose name I can't recall. We did sing into it, one day. Unfortunately, we sang "The Logical Song," a song that makes for a far inferior story, 24 years later.
The Finslippy universe consists of me, Alice Bradley, a writer/editor/lovable hysteric; Husband (who shall henceforth be known as "Husband," or "Scott," as the muse dictates); 16-month-old Son (also known as "Henry"); and, finally, Dog (or "Charlie"). More about us later.