I hate to boast,

but I am a jenius.

Scrapblogging, addiction, and a new blog.

I was just resting on my couch, ruminating on the huge phenomena that is scrapbooking. Scissors, fancy scissors, die-cuts, shaped photos, words, the whole she-bang. You know what I'm talking about . . . the elaborate photobook/journals women put together for their kids (and I put together for my cactus, taking its picture every 6 months to show how it's grown.) It's funny to think how many women wouldn't know what to do with themselves without a scrapbook to work on, especially when no one had heard of this great art of scrapbooking 6 years ago. Then I began to think about my next post. I don't know what I'd do with myself without my blog. HMMMmmm . . . there was a time not so long ago when I didn't know what a blog was. Now, not only would I be lost without this outlet for thoughts, but I must be officially addicted, as I have added a new blog entitled Christian Meditations. Please to check it out. This is just what the police officers taught us in the DARE program-that once you use a drug for an extended period of time, you need more and more of it to get the same effects!
So, I went from not knowing what a blog was, to being addicted to the one I had, and now I've added another. Maybe it's high time someone started a "Bloggers Annonymous", some 12-step program. Soon, I may find myself up 'til midnight, wearing my pajamas, working alongside others to better my blog and photo page.

Trip down Memory Lane

I'm doing something I haven't done in years; I'm sitting at home waiting for a phone call. It's really quite nostalgic-I feel like a kid again. Modern conveniences, are . . . well, convenient, but we miss a lot in the way of learning about our friends and ourselves, and how much our relationships are worth to us. Am I willing to wait at home with nothing particular to do in the anticipation and hope of a call from a good friend? Or, am I too antsy and busy to sit still? Do I value my friend enough to talk to her without the distractions of the road or the public? Or, is my life too busy to invest time into one relationship? Is talking to my husband about his day at work important enough to actually-gasp!-turn off the TV, or is the show so important that I'll just pause it and try to ignore the blue screen? Jerry Seinfeld, in an episode of his show (or in a book of his that I read), pointed out that there was a time when he actually liked answering the phone-when the phone rang, it meant there was someone interesting on the other end-maybe a buddy, maybe an aunt, someone. I can remember crank-calling. That was a childhood institution. Now, who would dare, with Caller I.D.? I can remember calling friends and having a very real possibility of having to talk to their parents. That meant you had to stay on their good side, or they might not let you talk to your friend. Now that everyone has their own phone, I can't remember the last time I asked, "Is so-and-so there?" Remember commercials? Mr.M and I skip them so deftly, that it has become nostalgic to watch one.

I started writing letters as soon as I was old enough to receive them. My first, and best, pen pal is my sister. She’s always loved to write and to read, and she’s passed those two loves on to me.

I’ve always saved every letter I ever received; which is why, upon hearing of a high school friend who had cancer, I rifled through my old letters, and found one she’d written to me 17 years earlier. Reading that letter, and remembering the very fun memories we shared from high school, I wrote to her. She wrote back, a very colorful, creative, and honest letter. And I wrote back. And I wrote again. I sent her pictures along with my letters, as she had, and I searched far and wide for unique stationary, even using paper bags for a creative touch. This has been such a fun time, getting to re-know my friend, and to know her better through our letter writing, and the inherent intimacy that comes with it. I keep her letters, plus a summary of the things I’ve written to her. I’ll cherish our correspondence always, and hope its not another 17 years before I see her again.

What we as a society gain in convenience and efficiency, I fear we will lose in depth and intimacy.