Daily fodder for the blogger

Part of my daily routine is reading my favorite blogs. I'm always amazed and impressed at the bloggers who manage to come up with something interesting and/or amusing EVERY SINGLE DAY! Because lately, I'm lucky to come up with something to write about once a week. Every morning, I sit and stare at the blank "New Entry" page and end up feeling like Patrick Star when he's trying to think and nothing happens.

Several times throughout the day, I'll think of something, start writing it in my head but as soon as I sit down at the computer, my train of thought leaves the station without me on board.

It's like trying to keep a diary or daily journal. After reading "The Diary of Anne Frank" in elementary school, I was inspired to try to keep a diary. Except I was lousy at it. I had one of those 5 year diaries that came with a locking cover to keep out prying eyes unless they had a paperclip because a paperclip would open that cheap lock so quick your eyes would spin. The 5 year diary would have a whopping 4 lines per day so that all there was room to write was what you had for breakfast, lunch and dinner with maybe some space for the time you woke up and the time you went to bed. But there was no way you could write anything of substance in those 4 lines.

Years ago, the therapist/counselor I was seeing for marriage and personal problems recommended I keep a journal. A couple of years ago I found it in a box up in the far corners of my closet. I sat down and read it and absolutely HOWLED at how stilted and formal it was, as if I was trying to sound like someone in a Jane Austen novel. What was in my head and what transferred into the written word were two entirely different things. And it wasn't pretty.

And, there's some things that you really shouldn't put into writing for someone to read. It's one thing to say something like, "I sure would love to see Brad Paisley

on my bed wearing nothin' but his cowboy hat and a grin" because THAT'S never gonna happen to me but it's a whole 'nuther thing to write down, "I can't BELIEVE I'm having an affair with Michael Kelso! He's only 17 and I'm such a Mrs. Robinson and I know it's wrong but I can't wait to get naked with him in his van again!" or "I hate my kids! Why didn't I get that abortion!" because nobody needs to read that stuff and just like that sex tape people make thinking nobody will ever see it (hardy har har) somebody, usually the wrong somebody, will find that diary or watch your sex tape and the next thing you know you've been dethroned as Miss California.

And on that note, I leave you with this lovely photo I took of Lucy today:

That's my dawg!