First of all, I don't know how to write a blog. I know I need to do some studying on it, but as with my artwork, I fear it might make me seem and feel fake, not genuine, not sincere. And I think I'm lazy sometimes.
Also, I don't even know why I'm writing a blog. I think they're probably very outdated, actually.
And how do I perceive my blog? I don't know. Maybe it's for my family, just a journal/record, for myself, for "posterity," maybe it's a self-centeredness on my part. Am I special enough to have a blog? I don't know; I doubt it. But I guess one could get all philosophical and say that, actually, we all are special in some way. But I'm not that kind of person. So I guess I'm writing it for -- who knows why. I do get some pleasure from it, pouring out my often-jumbled thoughts rather randomly.
I'm writing it because I want to. Even if no one else ever reads it, I'm going to write it. And I'll talk about whatever comes to mind on that day. Some days I'll brag- or moan - about my artwork, talk about the process of creating a piece from raw clay, about how I can make bread better -- and faster -- than anyone else I know, how I enjoy making "hot oil" for my granddaughter who spreads it on her toast made, of course, from the endless supply of bread I make for her and the rest of my family, how I love my gardens, how I'm really fit for a 79-year-old, how I used to love to travel and did it a LOT - but am now too afraid to. How a year ago I found out that I have a much younger sister (16 years younger) that I've never met. How much I love feeding the wild birds who gather in front of my house twice every day -- and the hummingbirds who come and go all day long and don't even mind if I'm around when they come to feed, summer and winter. And how being old definitely has its drawbacks, but there are so so many positives as well.
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