I sat down tonight to write. It was going to be an exercise in writing fiction, using my imagination to write from story prompts. First, I wanted to start with one paragraph, then multiple paragraphs, then chapters, etc.

It seems that my imagination is not deep enough to write anything interesting enough to read. My memory is not good enough to write cool stories about my childhood. My vocabulary is lacking depth, so my writing seems simplistic and probably boring.

A blogger needs to blog. A writer needs to write. I am not going to give up, but it may take me a long time to get this blog and/or story writing to a place that is worth reading. Until then, I guess I will journal about my days….

Thursdays are my favorite days of the week at work. It is the slowest day of the week, and, I get off work at 12:30pm and have half of the day to enjoy hanging out at home with my DH or working on a project or writing or whatever I want.

Climbing into the pickup after work where my husband was sitting and waiting for me, I smiled and asked him what he wanted to do today. The click of my seatbelt barely registered. We drove the short distance to Five Guys for lunch, talking all the way.

The juice dripping down our hands and onto the burger wrappers in front of us was proof of the deliciousness of the dill pickle slices, lettuce, tomatoes, mayo, mustard, and ketchup, loaded atop the melted cheese on the freshly grilled burger patty between the two halves of a toasted bun. The stack of napkins given to us with our lunch in the bag, was much needed, and should have been our first clue about how messy and delicious the meal would be.

The freshly cooked fries made from Idaho potatoes, grown in the next county over, are my favorite. Blowing on the fries to cool them before dunking them in the fry sauce (it’s an Idaho and Utah thing) gives a false sense of security that I would still be able to taste after slowly lowering the long fry-sauce-covered fry carefully into my mouth, while leaning my face over the table, hoping not to drip onto my t-shirt or jeans. “OUCH!” Nope, still hot. Burnt taste buds are the worst! The remainder of my meal did not seem to have much flavor. 😉

Opening the driver’s side door for me, leaning in, and whispering, “Your chariot awaits,” my DH always brings a smile to my face and a warmth to my heart.

“Thank you, My Darling,” I often reply.

He lovingly closes the door and walks around to the passenger side. I start the engine. I hear the click of his seat buckle. And, we are off.

Arriving home a short time later, we decided to get a jump on our weekend project of painting the master bath and bedroom. The frameless mirror we removed from the wall above the sinks and countertop is heavy. I walked backwards, hoping not to trip, as we slowly and gently carried it to the front bedroom where it will rest until the painting is complete. The bathroom appears smaller and feels bare from the missing lights, light switch and outlet covers, and toilet tank, but is prepped for the “cutting in” to begin tomorrow.

My DH will start with the brush work while I am at work. Then, when I get home tomorrow evening, I will roll the paint on the walls. It is my favorite. And, it should go quickly with the 14-inch roller I use. I will paint all I can in the two hours we will have between the time I arrive home from work and the time we leave for Mom and Dad’s house for our weekly “Friday Night Card Night.”