It was my privilege to pick up Handsome from work today, sans children. My in-laws have arrived and they looked after the kids while I drove off, listening to whatever music I wanted which did NOT include Five Little Speckled Frogs.
I was joking around with one of Handsome’s colleagues, who is a man I’ve known for over 17 years. He was at our wedding, even. Anyway, somewhat out of the blue he told me that I should write more. And I was like, write what? Handsome just thanked him for confirming something that he has been telling me for years. And so I’ve been thinking of writing. And trying to think about what to write. You might have noticed that my posts here have been somewhat scarce the last wee while. Facebook is partially to thank for that, but I also feel like I’m running out of material.
My daily life is comprised of many vignettes all strung together, but those vignettes normally deal with (in no particular order): disciplining of children, bodily excretions not my own, teaching children to count, reading picture books, cleaning up spilled milk (and trying hard not to cry over it), exclaiming over another (!) drawing. You get the idea. I feel like if I start to write about all those kind of things, I’ll just sound like a Seinfeld episode, filling up 30 minutes with chatter about the mundane.
So. Because I enjoy writing and because I know that the simple discipline of actually writing will improve my writing, I’m going to write. It may just be drivel, but I’ll write. No promises on how often, though.