Polishing My Halo

     My finger hovers precariously atop the "publish" button of this blog post, quivering with anticipation.  By the time you read this I will have been storing up this little secret in the attic of my brain for two weeks or more.  This clandestine piece of knowledge has legs and wants to run amok, like Tigger on amphetamines.  And thus, I have kept it locked up tight, inside a trunk, heavy leather straps and padlock to keep it secure, safe from slithering through my lips and into the ears of those who are not yet in the inner circle of secrecy.
     Oh, the agony!  Hording a secret such as I have is not a privilege, it is a curse; the cross that I must bear as a steward of good faith.  And I have upheld my part of the bargain, nearly busting a molar in the clenching of my teeth when opportune moments arise to shout it from the rooftops.
     And I have waited eagerly at the starting line for this very moment, my feet planted firmly for a jackrabbit start - get ready, get set............GO!

                                                               Stay with me....



                                                              Stay with me....


                          Iamgoingtobeagrandma!  I am going to be a grandma!  

Wheeeeeew!  There I said it.  I can't feel my legs...I think I smell burnt toast.  Oh my stars, I'm going to be a    
                                                               GRANDMA.