I blog again

Here I am again.

I guess I ought not to give myself a pat on the back for keeping up with this blog thing after I've just done it twice, but truth be told I didn't think I'd get this far. One thing I wished I had done was go to King's Business College in Charlotte after the war.

Then I could have told my first husband Frank to hit the road.

I could have learned stenography and ten-key adding machine, skills nobody needs anymore and anybody much younger than me has never heard of, but they would have come in mighty handy back then.

I did learn to type, though, and here I am right now just typing up a storm. I can type fast, too, for an old woman with arthritis in her fingers. It feels good to let your thoughts flow right out of your brain down your arms and out your fingers.

Some of your thoughts, that is.

There're others you best keep to yourself, if you can. Only time will tell if I keep this up or quit like Delores's grandson said most people do. Most people who start up one of these blogs lose interest after about a week, they say, so this internet thing is plain saturated with Pure T. Crap.

We'll see. And time will tell just how much I'll let fly that I ought to keep to myself. Stay tuned for that.

Well, it feels good anyway, this typing straight onto the computer screen. I'm admitting that to myself but don't tell them I said it--my kids, I mean. I'm in this stand-off with them because I won't learn the new technology.

Every time they force one of those cell phones on me, I throw it away--accidentally on purpose stick it in a trash bag of clothes I've set aside to give to the Goodwill, then tell them I lost it. Yes, this feels right good, typing away like this. If I could have done this way back when I smoked, I might have found it easier to quit.

Having something to do with your fingers is important in life. You write that down.

I think I'm supposed to put a picture of me up here. So far I haven't found one that looks like me yet doesn't drive home the hard truth of what I look like in my old age. We'll see. I'll put some pictures of how I looked back during the war, though, and some pictures of my good friend Esther and some of my grands, maybe even one or two of Frank, that jerk. And how about my recipe for fruitcake?

We'll see.