Letters, Quotes, Memory,
& Recipes.
I am not usually one to read fiction, although I always break this rule the minute a new book by Alexander McCall Smith releases. There are few reading moments that make me happier than those nights before bed when I am in the middle of a made-up adventure of Mma Ramotswe, Isabel Dalhousie, or little Bertie Pollock.
My kids think I’m a real writer because TJ took a series of devotions I worked on over the summer and had them printed in a book format. I am a real writer but that’s not the reason. The reason is because I write. That’s all it takes. You show up to write day after day, and you can call yourself a writer.
October 17, 2017 was my first day writing in my one-sentence journal based on The Happiness Project. Now that a year has passed, how interesting it will be, with each new entry I write, to read and remember the little thing I wrote down on the same date the previous year. I don’t want to get older, but if I have to, I at least want to do it aware and awake.
I’m rereading a book I read ages ago called Telling Secrets, and now I might be on a little Buechner kick. On hold at the library, waiting for me to pick them up, are Buechner’s The Sacred Journey and an unrelated book by Tim Madigan called I’m Proud of You: My Friendship with Fred Rogers. TJ and I recently watched the movie “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” and already I want to watch it again so I can copy down some of Mr. Rogers’ quotes.
