I haven’t blogged in almost 3 months. I don’t have a clear rationale for why I stopped; I just suddenly didn’t feel a purpose for doing it. Partly I felt overwhelmed by all the computer and social media time in my life. This morning, in fact, Hugh said, “Why do you love your phone so much?”

But I miss writing. The writing I do now falls into one of these categories: status updates, tweets, work emails, personal emails, and professional grant writing. I feel the need to tap into my story voice, the one that’s been in my head since I was six years old when all my stories went into  a pink spiral notebook that I decorated myself.

What really inspired me tonight is that Hugh is starting to tell his own stories. Instead of books at night, we just make up stories in the dark. Last night, his story had a particular arc to it. It went like this:

“A long, long time ago, when I was just a young boy, I went to Grandma’s house in Florida. But instead of Grandma, there was a ghost! I said, ‘Eeek’ and ran away. I found a pink and orange striped alligator who said ‘tick tock, tick tock.’ I took him all the way to California where I found Grandma. We went to look at chickens, but she said, ‘Better not touch them. Their beaks don’t look too friendly.’ So instead I found a snake, a striped one, and took it home. The End.”

Also, I got this great piece of art from my friend, Ami, as a belated 40th birthday present. She gave it to me at the beach and said, “No pressure. Just write in your head if you want.” But I knew what she meant.

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