I collect greeting cards. Not Hallmark cards, or American Greeting cards, but, the expensive wrapped-in-cellophane high-style cards that they sell in places like Papyrus and Barnes and Noble.
One of their lines from a few years back featured pithy quotations by famous authors. Among these was a card featuring a quotation from Mark Twain, “You say there is nothing to write about? Then write to me that there is nothing to write about.”
I’m feeling that way tonight - that I have nothing exciting to say, today, and that I need a night off, but that I can’t take one because I committed to doing a post a day til Epiphany, and I haven’t missed a day yet.
In Scrabble, there are these nifty blank tiles, which, once drawn, can represent ANY letter the player needs at the time. I need the journal-equivalent of a blank tile - a generic bit of text that I can paste into this box and call mine.
In my attempt to find something to write about, I even suggested that my husband be my guest-blogger tonight. When he vehemently declined my gracious offer (by shrieking NO! at the top of his lungs), I then tried to play word association with him, in a futile effort to generate blog-fodder. “What do you think of when I say ‘glitter’?” I asked. His response was to waggle his eyebrows, and kiss me, and offer a near-synonym. At least the kiss was nice.
I’ve noticed that a lot of the folks I’ve read through Holidailies are keeping digital Commonplace Books, and I’m drawn to the notion. I’ve done this with notebooks for as long as I can remember, without having a name for the habit (though the notebooks were generally titled ‘Melissa’s Magic Notebook’), and I think it would be useful to revert to this childhood habit, as it’s much neater than the vast array of post-its that I usually acquire when I start logging snippets for later expansion into entries.
But that’s for another time.
Right now, I’m going to go make tea, and fold clothes.
Because I have nothing to write about.
Yours