I was scrolling through FB earlier today, and I ran across something in my news feed that made me take pause. It was an article called “How to Make a Hand-Stitched Journal.” What?! First of all, why was it on a food blog? Secondly, who has the time and inclination to make a book? No disrespect to the author, but I think someone might have a little too much time on her hands.

I journal occasionally. Rarely. OK, I haven’t in at least a year. But I like the thought of it. And, occasionally, if I see a cute journal or a sketch book when I’m out and about, I have a moment of weakness and buy it. I think I currently only have one blank one. So, it’s not like an obsession or anything. I like the thought of those blank pages and the endless possibilities they can be filled with.

Anyhoo, it made me think about writing again. Think about that blank book. Think about taking pen to paper, the satisfaction of scratching that black ink onto the pristine white pages. But for today, I’ll settle for the warmth of my MacBook on my lap and the clickety-clack of the keys…





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