So what do I write about here? The one thing I can extol with great virtue (or at the very least, length) is mostly cooking. It’s rather the one thing I do constantly. I have so many hobbies that I never really accomplish any projects but I have learned a small amount about many things.
People love to exchange recipes and talk food. Very few people care what I do in my spare time that doesn’t involve feeding them. This is not an insult nor a complaint, but merely an observation. How many people are so bored and have so very little to do that they would prefer to spend their precious moments listening to another individual ramble? (And I am not including or bashing daytime television. I think it is a marvelous tool for realizing how much worse your life could be.) And I do ramble. And write improper sentences with lousy grammar. Seems you have to learn the rules of writing before you can break them. Once you do, you can get put on the high school reading list for having a sentence that runs twenty pages. I call that a failing grade in English. How does that even work? I’d forget the beginning, go for coffee break, and check emails all before getting to the end!
Any ways, mini-literary rant aside, I suppose the only person I ever expect to read this is me. I will use it as a mini-documentary of the life of moi. I can never keep track of all the journals and notebooks that one accumulates when one has an untreated stationary fetish. I love writing so much, I went and bought a fancy fountain pen because I love the way the ink flows across the page.
I will post crafty things involving sewing machines and musical instruments. Puppies and books. Living in the forest and gardening. Pretty much anything a magpie with the attention span of a dyslexic gnat on speed can stay on for two seconds before bouncing to the next shiny.
If by some chance, some poor soul stumbles onto the path of randomness, may they find a road to happiness. Or at the very least, chocolate.