Where do you write?

Last fall, when daughter was starting school, I went to Target and found a very pretty pink notebook. At 8.5×11, it was larger than I was used to. But I liked the idea of something more substantial; larger pages to hold my thoughts. I didn’t consider that the large size would be harder to fit it into my purse. Harder to carry around every day. Harder to hold on my lap on the couch in the evenings. But I kept plugging away. And then I stopped. I opened it up this morning to see that the last date I wrote in it was December 1. Nearly a month. Have I really been stumped for a whole month? I’ve stopped by this space here and there, but apparently I just stopped writing during the whole crazy holiday month. Which is okay. We had fun. We baked cookies. We drove around and looked at the lights. We went sledding. We had friends over. We played air hockey. But now I’m back to writing. In two days it will be January. And what else is there to do in January in Minnesota but to cuddle under a blanket (or two) in front of the fireplace and run my pen along the paper.

Will you join me?


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