For the past several months, I’ve been ending telephone conversations with bye-ya. I know it’s hideous; I’m powerless to stop. It makes me sound like the woman who waits outside before the craft store opens, the woman who relates interesting stories she heard on Oprah, the woman who knows how to bake an excellent bundt cake.
The thing is, I am that woman. I’m going to get married, have a few kids, find a cat, bake a few too many tasty cakes, and die fat. And it all starts with bye-ya, folks.
Time to start writing that book.