I never realized what a boring person I am until I started writing a blog. No, that’s not true. When I was in high school, I asked for a diary for Christmas, and night after night, I wrote the same things in it. Went to school today. Had a Latin quiz. Did 2 hours of Physics homework tonight. Yawn. I finally got so sick of me, I started making things up. “I found a dead body in my locker this morning.” (I was hooked on Agatha Christie that year). Once, “I fell through a hole between English and math class and ended up in a strange land.” (I’d just finished reading Lost Horizons). When I realized my sister was sneaking into my room when I was gone to read my diary, I wrote “I made out with XXX last night, but he’s a horrible kisser.” And then I got “the birds and bees” lecture from my mother.

I finally threw the diary away. But years and years later, when I wanted to publish a book, my agent told me I had to have a blog. And at first, that was fun because I wrote about writing–which I’m pretty passionate about. But I only have so much (and it’s not a lot) of wisdom to share, and then I had to switch to thoughts about writing–books I’d read, things that I thought worked really well for other authors, manuscripts I’m working on, etc. And then I started adding in things that are happening in my life.

But right now, every chance I get, I plop my fanny in my desk chair and pound on keys. And then even less happens in my life than before, because I’m writing more than usual. The most exciting thing that happened to me today was that HH and I cleaned out our refrigerator this morning. I love to cook, and eventually, I end up with jars of strange sauces, ingredients I bought for a recipe and haven’t used for the last four months, five different kinds of hot sauces, and a huge jar of homemade tomatillo sauce. And no shelf space. More leftovers than anyone should have. So, it was time to get stern and toss what should go. And now we can find the jar of pickles and the mustard again:) After that, I seasoned a pork tenderloin and cooked it in the air fryer for our young, single neighbor. He has Crone’s Disease and is really sick right now, so I’m careful what I make for him. No grease, so I made him a baked sweet potato, too.

Tonight, we go to meet our friends at Wrigley Field Bar and Grill , so I’m finally trying to write a quick chapter before it’s time to go. I might be boring, but time still seems to disappear. I have writers’ club tomorrow and won’t get any writing done then. But Scribes always recharges my battery, makes my fingers itch to push on keys. Which means on Thursday, it’s back to butt in chair. And I have to say, after spending too much time in hospitals visiting loved ones, boring just plain feels good. It’s a blessing.

Hope you’re having a great October, and happy writing to you, too!

11 thoughts on “

  1. My fridge is the same way. I try to deal with it once a week (on trash night) but things always seem to hide and every shelf is full. That was nice of you to make your neighbor dinner.

    And you’re not boring.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. First of all, you are not boring. I can relate to the diary entries. I still have one of mine and talk about boring entries. It never occurred to me to make up stories.

    And time? Where does it go? Yes, you warned me. 🙂 I’m already six weeks into retirement. Should have at least written a novella in that time, right?


  3. Okay, if I’ m not boring, I’m sure not exciting either:) And I did warn you. Time goes fast! But you just retired, and I think you’re allowed to enjoy doing nothing or whatever you want for a while. So enjoy!


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