With Each Key I Type

... I imagine myself, sometimes, with the images of Elliot Gould, Angela Lansbury in Murder She Wrote, or Steven Cannell as he types the final at the end of a show he has worked upon, or even with the image of my own Mom creating her masterpieces (fiction and non-fiction; adult and children; prose and poetry) as I was growing up. She would often have the "midnight oil" running (just kidding, no oil, but the image sounds more surreal than with a lamp on the desk) throughout all hours of the night. Perhaps, that is where I get that from typing, now on the computer, until all hours of the night from? Can that be a generational thing???

This blogging thing has been quite addictive. In fact, it has been so much that my friend's son says that now I have become a bloghead. Is there such a thing? I realize that this has been going on for many years before I have jumped on the bandwagon during the past week, but I have so much to say that it has been interesting to blog away!! My landline phone was disconnected today; I have rent due tomorrow; and I need to take an online defensive driving class -- yet, I am typing my thoughts and words down as if I were already an aspiring writer. Well, maybe someday I will be! In the meantime, I am enjoying the beginning of this ride!! :)

Be sure to check out some of my friend's sites:

Books by Len Grossman (an self-published author in Connecticut)
Anton Dvorak's Memoires