Packing Heat!

A few days ago, I was introduced to a well known author. It was one of those moments where I was waiting for the joke that would come from his mouth about my name (as is the typical case when people I am introduced to hear my name: "Denver... is your last name Colorado?" I can't even fake laugh to this one anymore).

But I was pleasantly surprised. This time, the gentleman looked me up and down (and not in that creepy way some men do), and he said, "Denver. That's a great name. It makes me think your packing heat." And he reached to his side, as if he had a gun in a holster.

So what's a girl to think of this statement except:

"Damn, he's right." I do pack HEAT.

The only thing is... lately I have been lying low. Hiding behind a rock, you might say waiting. Waiting because I have been doing the thing one should never do: Worry about others impressions of you.


I have been told by a few people in recent months I scare them. I have no idea how this could be. Because lets face it, being five feet tall and a girl who typically brings cupcakes or cookies to the party--I'm just not that intimidating. The only explanation I can come up with is they must think of me as a rattlesnake.

You see I do curl up real nice--passive and composed--wrapped in bright vivid colors of red, yellow, black and white. I blend well into my surrounding environment, listening quietly, anticipating.  And then the energy in my being explodes.

And I strike.

I strike with my lips, forming words on topics I enjoy, I debate (the Italian in me), I strike with my opinions and rationale.

I strike....

I can only be me... so stop running scared. Besides... I don't bite... At least not that hard.

This rattlesnake is waking, and she is packing HEAT.


P.S. Italian learned today: Io ho una problema. Non L'ho capita.