Well, here it is: My very own blog. If you read it, thanks. If you don't, thanks. But as long as I got the account, I figured I'd better write something here. And I'm a writer, you know? That's what we writers do.
What should I write about? Hmmm. I'm naturally opinionated, so that oughta be easy, but it's not. I need to care for your sensibilities and I just can't "spew." There's no grand event imminent, like the birth of a child or the advent of some new activity. There's just my, uh, life. Which is: 50-something, white, female, marriedforeverandever, suburban, well educated, professional, mother/grandmother, nonspectacular. That's "extreme" me!
I could tell you some deeply personal things, but quite frankly, I'm just not that interesting. I love to write and read poetry and drink good wine (even better simultaneously), hate to pose for pictures because I always blink when the shutter goes off, blush when I'm embarrassed and think I'm fat. I love my husband and have never had an affair. I love my children and have never beat them or intentionally made their lives a living hell. I'm about as bland as your Aunt Gert. Spiritual in a fallen-away Catholic genre. Liberal but not bleeding heart. Privileged but not spoiled. Champagne taste, beer budget. But I'm OK with that and unapologetic.
I've never really written like this about myself or my raison d'etre before. Have you?