So last night I read A Bad Beginning, the first book in Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events.  What a weird book.  I love that the author uses big words, but then explains them so kids will understand, it's a great way to expand their vocabulary.  But I don't know any kid that wouldn't be completely disturbed by the book.  I was disturbed.  I'm interested to read more of the series to see if it gets any happier. 

I've decided it's time to enter the world of blogging.  I've been a little resistant, mostly because I'm lazy, but I think I need motivation to think critically about life instead of just trudging through each day.  People ask me what's going on and I usually say "nothing," but that's not true.  There's always something going on, it's just in the way I look at it.

I was thinking yesterday about writing.  Why don't people write anymore?  I'm talking about sitting down with pen and paper, trying to spell things right the first time, physical writing.  I miss it.  When Brian and I were first dating he moved to Virginia for a while, and we spent a lot of time writing to each other.  I miss those letters.  Who doesn't love getting real mail in the midst of a pile of ads and bills in your mailbox, and the knowledge that someone took the time to write a real letter to you? 

I think I was born in the wrong time.  People used to write books on paper, not laptops.  People wrote letters instead of texting.  They used fountain pens.  Fountain pens are wonderful.  I love that scratchy feel and sound as it brushes the page.  And I don't want to sound conceited, but I love my handwriting.  I love the feel of good paper, of getting settled in my chair, of thinking of what I want to say ahead of time.  I know that we're all busy and email takes much less time, but still.  There's something a little cold about email, I'm tired of the computer.  Maybe this is why I've been resisting the blog.  I think it's time to revive the art of letter-writing.  So family and friends, keep an eye on your mailboxes.