...and, oh, yeah, I have a blog.
I can't believe it's almost been a month since I posted. I was talking to Brett the other night on the train, on our way back from our Thanksgiving trip to Portland (more about that later...lots of thoughts swimming around in my head about family, and loyalty, and becoming a grownup) and I was telling him about how I need to update my blog more.
It's hard, though, (I said) becuase I don't have time at work and don't feel right about doing it at work, and when I get home, either we usually have somewhere to be, I start making dinner, or Brett is on the computer and I don't get a chance to do anything but maybe if I am very very lucky check my email.
Anyway. All two of you who still check it will be, I am sure, shaking your heads and mumbling, "Excuses, excuses." Which, yes, true. Excuses.
I was emailing with a friend with whom I used to work at the newspaper in Maine, about being a writer and about how I really miss writing a lot more than I thought I would. She said this, "You're a writer, Kathleen, you always will be. Whether or not you get paid for it or are doing it everyday, you will always be a writer ... Keep writing, in whatever capacity you can. Make your blog your Gazette. I know its different because the pressure of employment isn't there, but in some way, it is your livelihood."
And she's right. I need to make this blog like my newspaper was to me in Maine. I need to write in here often. I need to hone my language, my vocabulary, my style.
So...I'm not going to make any vague promises to post more (because it's been done before and, well, just look how well that turned out. But I am going to say that I want to post more, and that I am going to work at building time into my schedule to post more, if for no other reason than to exercise my writing muscle, as it were.
Ok, I do need to get going -- so I'm sorry this is abrupt...but I'd rather it be abrupt and have a post there, I guess, than have it be the most beautifully-crafted entry I'd prefer to write.