The woman I am...or the woman you see. Which is it?
The writer at school...back in 1411...trying not to burn her lip on soup. Or, more accurately, "soup". I'm going to go on a teeny tiny rant, for a reason. Please, bear with me, because I feel the need to make a point. As those crazy kids say, "I got triggered." Now, normally I don't get too ruffled about things other than issues of justice, or which hockey team is the best (the one my son is on), or what's better, summer or winter, (duh, summer) or if people think dark chocol