Who knew?

As it turns out. . if you fancy becoming a writer and dream silly little dreams of calling yourself a writer and maybe even having more than one slightly unflattering pair of glasses. . .you have to actually write something. Who knew?

I'm reading a fantastic book by Ariel Gore and even she suggests that writing things (other than manuals for your employer)is the first step in becoming a writer. So on that authority, I rejoin my 3-7 followers on this little adventure in blogging.

I'm exploring other blog platforms and toying with a separate, more sophisticated blog (read: not one that is all about the kids and the gnats and the silliness). You know, one that will tackle the tough issues, that will discuss politics, religion, sex, and the abhorred fashion/diet trends. Where else can I pontificate about NKOTBSB and the Israeli conflict?

Or maybe I should stick to what I know. And what I know is that this moment is a gift. There are but joyful tasks at hand. There is gratitude and grace flooding in and I'm struggling to capture it in all its glory. Animals rubbing their faces with their paws and yawning ever so delightfully that I almost want to die. Babies snoring in messy rooms. Calm settling on a joyfull home. These are the ridiculous amazing moments that I know.

And so I find my way back here and I have notes all over the place about things I'd like to write. Things I'd like to share. Things I'd like for you to laugh at and retell. Things I'd like for you to pay me for having said. Well, laugh anyway and smile and revel in that moment of joy that you find yourself about to miss.