Eleven drafts. I have ELEVEN DRAFTS saved right now, all incomplete, just a few with any chance of seeing the light of internet-day. Some ceased being relevant months ago, others are just waiting for me to make up my mind about if they are too personal/not personal enough/uninteresting/worth sharing/contain enough decent prose to publish. It’s harder than it looks, this blogging thing.
But today I am sitting down, at ten am in the Eastern Time morning, with two pieces of toast, coffee, a hard-boiled egg, and every intention to finish, edit, and share this little listy bit of writing that is the first in a series of what I am calling SUMMER IN THE HILLS, aka, the riveting chronicles of my daily life as a professional salad maker (stay tuned) and amateur everything else in the North Hills of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, as I try to make some art and rest a little bit before returning to Wheaton to do a play and also my last year of college. Sounds like an exciting time for blogging!! Right? OF COURSE RIGHT.
(I really hope you read that in your best Fiddler on the Roof Yente impression.)