*flexes fingers a few times* Hits the keyboard, hands flying.
I've been an erratic blogger. Yes, Cedar, you're thinking, you've been like that for... (checks blog date) sixteen years now.
I don't mean that kind of erratic! I mean the kind that doesn't post on the regular, which means that readers stop coming to see if I have cookies for their brains. And that's a problem. The blog is an outlet for me, sure, but it's also a marketing thing. See? I have books. If I can amuse you with the free writing, think how much more my books may do so! In addition, it's a good place to park stuff like the anthology open submission calls.
Which means I have to make more of an effort to write here. I refuse to court controversy. It gives me indigestion of the spirit, so I try to avoid it. In case of indigestion of the spirit, take a glass of the milk of humankindness and go watch a half hour of kitten videos. You'll feel much better. I know I do.
My main problem is that I consider myself boring. I'm not an exciting person, truly. I've never gone anywhere much, never had grand adventures, no major career accomplishments. I write, I mother, I wife, I potter around in the kitchen, and every day to keep myself sane I create art. So when it comes time to sit down and do this, I think 'I have nothing much to say, better to say nothing.'
Well, that won't work. I need, obviously, to get creative. Hence this post, which is written with tongue firmly in cheek, although, yes, my hands are flying over the keyboard. I never did learn to touch type correctly and I don't do the anchor keys properly. I have, after a million or so written words, at least learned to type without looking at the keyboard. Progress!
I've been reflecting on my life, recently. The upcoming birthday for one, and my son flittering like mad getting ready to leave the nest in a year or two, have me introspective and looking ahead into the future. I'm doing some small things for me. I'm trying to make sure my First Reader is content inasmuch as I can. You can't make someone happy, I've learned. You can try, but the happy part is up to them. In his case, I'm slowly getting it through my thick head that if I am happy, he's happy. Hence me being a little more... well, ok, rearranging the living room furniture just amused him, but it made me feel better about the room. And I was a bit surprised to have Lawdog observe during Saturday dinner, with a tone of dawning comprehension: 'you really do like cooking for people, don't you?'
I do. It's very satisfying to prepare a meal, and watch people enjoy it. I'm not a patient person, so this is immediate gratification. I find it highly rewarding and do it as often as I can. I've been cooking for family since I was small. The first meal I can remember making from scratch for the family dinner was a potroast, and then a three-layer German Chocolate cake afterwards, because it was my Dad's favorite. It's been not quite forty years of cooking since then, and you know, it really doesn't get old unless I let myself get into a rut, or the kitchen messy to the point of frustration.
So there you have it. I'm boring, but you know what? I think I'll keep doing this little bit of calm and fun. Might be something that's needed along all of the calamity controversy out there. Come on back, and set a bit.
Day 1: Dilapidated bathysphere
Day 2: Phoenix Balalaika
Day 3: Boustrophedonic Seashore