Identity Crisis

No. In fact, I did not change my name. I am still Peggy to most of you.

However, since my son believes I am writing the next "50 Shades of Grey", I promised to spare him public humiliation (outside the normal realm of what mothers are allowed!) and chose a pen name. But let's clear up that color thing, first. In fact, anyone who has read anything of mine (a tiny portion of the population, say, maybe seven people...), knows that I just barely qualify for a quarter shade of light ivory! In my writing. Enough said.
 
Still, I want to simplify my name. This is who I was born. It just never got a chance to stick. My siblings and parents immediately called me Peggy. (A good choice, considering my sisters are all named "Mary something", too!) Add a confirmation name, the nickname to begin with, and a married-hyphenated-name...on any given day, I have no clue who I am? So lets just keep it all a secret by throwing it out into the world.

Second order of business, very much related to my identity crisis, is that I have moved around a bit. You may think from the blog title, that my life is in pieces, as in falling apart! It generally is, but in this case, not so. There are just a lot of pieces, as I am sure the rest of you possess. For me the basic breakdown would have to consider: Childhood life in Philly (right near the State of Pennsylvania), with one two-year stint in Florida and another outside Washington DC. in Northern VA; young adult life in Alaska, including seasonal summers in a lovely fishing village at a salmon cannery, winters on the Bering Sea, earning my BA at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, and traveling the Alcan, spending one winter in Santa Barbara, CA, and a Semester at Sea; coming back to the Lower 48 with my MacKenzie Freight Husky (my first love); back and forth for a few years, between the above, until I decided to raise my Son (the love of my life) in Minneapolis; a quick change of plans moving back to suburban Philly for SuperNan's final years; meeting Paul (the man of my dreams); moving to Long Island; Sully's school years; and now...life after child rearing! My open book.

Any idea which of my loves this is?

So, two matters a day is about the breadth of my attention span on this beautiful spring Sunday morning. All is well in the world, and I am writing my way through my identity crisis, with fiction triggered from my real life ('cause really, as my dear friend, George W. Luxemburg always says "...and you can't make that shit up!". So prod me with a question, if you dare, to spare yourself trying to figure out the mess above. God help you if you leave it to me to simply babble! My musings are often littered with typos, bad grammar, and profanities. I will try to keep them all under control...or not. Guess it depends on what you want to know first?