I've been reading a lot of blogs lately--a number of them heavy on photos and light on text. Can't decide how I feel about that. They're entertaining but it almost seems too easy. Are readers getting their money's worth if they are only reading captions? I like a well-illustrated blog as much as the next person, but I also like some meat with my photos.
Of course, I'm hardly one to talk. I'm about to take the writer's version of the coward's way out--writing a list. When you write a list (with or without the numbers) you don't have to connect the dots. It's easier. But today, writing a list is better than another month long absence from blogging. I'll save my profound essays on life for another time.
My Dad died sixteen years ago today, and I didn't even remember that until I saw the date on the newspaper. I miss Big Ern. I've been thinking about him all day.
Today is rainy and gray. I love the sound and the smell of rain. We get so little of it in this part of California that even the sensation of rain is exciting. I also love rain because now I get to use my beautiful new umbrella. It's black, white and shades of gray--all of the subtle colors of a rainy day in Paris.
Which leads me to something else I love. the beauiful city of Paris, and most things French. A newly discovered blog, Paris Breakfasts, has heightened my Paris passion this week.
Sometimes it's the small things in my day that bring joy--like my new water bottle. It's not that the water tastes better but I love to drink from it, hold it and look at it. It's brilliant pansy purple, my official color for 2009.
Love the new drive through coffee place in Goleta, Zizzo's. I went there today in the pouring rain and ordered into a little white box. A disembodied voice greeted me and asked how I was doing. The response to everything I said was "awesome." A few minutes later I was the happy recipient of a nonfat, extra hot latte. An added bonus was the earnest young barrista wishing me an "awesome day" as I rolled up my window and drove off in the rain.
A final new "like" is short stories. Granted, I've only written one, but it's the first piece of fiction that I've actually completed. There is a definite euphoria attached to crossing that elusive finish line.