Why hello there...

I’m sitting outside and having a coffee while writing for the first time in ages. I feel like I’m playing hooky. My two kids and dearly beloved are miles away at the grocery store and me with spare time before an appointment… indulging and guilty.
This writing effort, this blogging venture is not supposed to be an indulgence. The triple shot latte- yeah that counts as frou-frou indulging. But here I’ve got sunlight, a cool breeze, ambient conversation, surprisingly comfortable metal seating and even silly little birds darting about my feet. Too much!
I feel like I need to wrap it up- back to the car and on your way. Let’s not dilly dally. Who thinks phrases like that? Let’s not “dilly dally?”
Okay then- let’s not.
Paper Boxes. Here it is, here I am- a synopsis of the big bang of the blog and then maybe later a mind-numbing profile of myself. Don’t get too excited. It’s just dilly dallying. Paper Boxes as a title comes from a piece I wrote over a decade ago. * The writing expressed everything I needed to say in that moment of time. I would like to allow this blog to leave some space for inaccurate, ill-advised delirium but mostly I would like it to do the same as that one piece I wrote so long ago.
I would love for each entry to describe the moment, the situation as is: density, core temperature and nutritional value. But I will never expect my writing to be anything that couldn’t be stored away amongst the items in an attic. Now to be obvious and bring it ‘round the front for the folks in the back who may have missed it…
I won’t expect more from myself here than bits of writing that could be put away in a plain paper box. Maybe forgotten for a while, hidden, sometimes treasured or found by the wrong person at the wrong time. Or just simple words that used to go on paper you carried into smoky diners in the wee hours and now go out onto the wires and a highway that is nothing more than metaphor. I am indulging a part of me, the one that wrote “Paper Box” in the middle of the night in a sketchy part of Boston and really felt her hands tingle with the energy and the need to get the words out. And now I wait for the words.