Mrs. Nesbeth

As the delightful Kim Berg has made this venue available, I thought it wise to tell you a little something about myself.  But not too much.  I’m not entirely trusting of this blogging business or talking on the Internet.

I met Kim years ago, when she was in her freedom days, as I call them. She flitted from one experience to another and I admired her wit and stubborn determination.   I saw myself in her.  We became friends.

I like to speak my mind, which is frowned upon in some places on the planet. Women have no brains, you know.  Or, ours are different and therefore, of less quality.  I have no patience for intolerance and I despise those who think they deserve something and demand it.  No, you don’t.  God didn’t put you here to get presents.

Mrs. Nesbeth is not my real name, of course. If I told you my real name…well, let’s just say there is freedom to speak in America and there is freedom to speak and get death threats in America.  Suffice it to say I’m a gutsy old broad with a twinkle in her eyes and if we were meet, I would likely find you to be charming.

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