Long time no blog. I should write something, I guess. There are at least two people depending on these missives.

I guess it's confession time:

I can't read or write.

I know what you are all thinking. "How can someone so stunningly attractive not be able to read or write. Oh, and now that I've torn my myself away from the vision that is Kris, I have realized that I am currently reading something that he wrote. I wish he would explain himself and quit stalling with what he assumes is my inner monoloque."

Wait no more. You see, everything I have ever written has come in the form of messages stuffed in empty Sangria bottles. Every day for 21 years I have received a new bottle with pages of unintelligible, at least to me, symbols. Then at about 6:30 p.m. each evening I receive a phone call telling me when and where to copy these symbols. And that accounts for everything I have ever written. Yes, that includes this explanation. Weird, huh?

Oh, and please feel free to leave whatever comments you want in response to this message. I won't have any clue what they say!