Tonight I wrote up three journal entries to go with three photographs I am considering sending to Life Images. I did this after I opened my "How to Write a Resume" articles, added my name and address to the top of a Word document and tried desperately to squeeze some writerly credentials out of my twenty nine years of existence. How do you become a writer when you have to be a writer to be a writer? That's one for Alice's smoking caterpillar, right up there with, "Who are you?"
As I looked over my photos for this past year I was really surprised. I have felt like I have done nothing, but actually I have done, or at least sought, a great deal. After our weekend in Fredericksburg there are many photos of cooking and housekeeping endeavors. What would it mean to say that homemaking has become one of the most important things in my life?
That cooking or sewing are indulgences that carry no sting or leave no regret, not the barest trace?