Word.

Just as the meadowlark trills her perfect song after a long winter absence, and the redwing blackbirds in droves are now sending out their humming call. And my leetle tiny chickens are laying their leetle tiny eggs again. I have returned to my blog.

I love a chronicle of events (you should see my photo libraries). I like seeing where I've been, remembering good times and sharing with others. Capturing it. Taking my memories hostage. Writing helps me keep track of my life, somehow. Keeping a good old fashioned diary. My writing roots go back to my Gramma Marj, who daily wrote in her diary. A Duluth/Chicago gal from a family of 11, who loved a good Manhatten while she wrote a single page, or paragraph. And turned into what would become volumes that described and chronicled her life. She would start out noting the temperature, and then delve into matter of fact accounts of the day. She never let me read it, as she taught me it was private. But I got the idea and the bug. And I wanted one. And indeed, she was the one who gave me my first diary, a blue plaid canvas diary with clasp and key. sigh. I still have that diary, and reading my fat loopy writing, just makes me giggle.

My mother, Diane made sure my spelling was correct and that my papers had solid structure. She was a biology professor, and a college valedictorian, so she knew her stuff, I couldn't have had a better teacher. I would hand Mom my school paper for a review and in short order, she would return it, marked up in red ink. But she did it lovingly, and with encouragement. Lucky me to have such a fine teacher as my tutor, mentor and mom.

And certainly, credit must go to Dr. Werner Heim, my first block professor at Colorado College, teaching 'Heredity, Evolution and Society' with an emphasis on writing in Fall 1982. He never once laughed at my effort, or insulted my intelligence. He just methodically and surgically shredded my first thesis and outline during a face-to-face meeting in his Olin Hall office, that left me weak in the knees at each subsequent visit. Maybe it was his thick german accent. Maybe it was his intensity. But I listened, and rallied, and learned much. I'm a better writer, even though I couldn't understand why anyone would ever have children, given all the harrible statistics in the field of genes, chromosomes, and diseases. I didn't need to see that elaphantitis leg, either.

And thanks to my friend Jillian, and her kick ass blog http://www.isdisnormal.com/, for the connection, encouragement, and invitation to the digital word dance.

And to the movie 'Julie & Julia'.

So now I'm drinking up the satisfaction not only writing these words, but remembering these thoughts, and people. Manna from heaven. Word.