photo by Andrew Kilgore

I remember the librarian in first or third grade saying that they weren’t binding books any more (with the plastic spiral binding), but she would for me.  I would tell stories to my great-grandmother.  Now I get to make up stories for my kids; all four of them like to listen, though not usually at the same time.

This blog starts as an extension of my creative journey, a way to share my writing with others, skipping the formal publishing and using trees part.  (Though one day, I will hopefully have a printed to book to share, printed on recycled paper.)  I accept the notion of being a “mom blogger” since I suppose there are worse things to be called, but I know at the heart of the matter, I am who I am.

I have a dear husband who supports all my efforts.  I could probably write several essays on what I believe, ranging from birth to death, Christianity to Buddhism, cleaning to art.  He would listen to every one and tell me how wonderful I am at the end.

Hopefully doing this will enhance my life, my family’s life, and perhaps even yours.  What I write on this blog is mostly not fiction, though some days it may seem like it; when it is, I’ll mark it as such.  Everyday life has a way of creating its own stories; it just needs a voice, or in this case, fingers, to do the typing.

May we all live in the richness of life, in the simple, everyday wonders.