Good lord, I love the Internet. I write a headline: Blankety Blank! And then I think, "I wonder if everyone knows what that means." So I Google the term, and Merriam-freakin'-Webster pops right up. Blankety blank: damned.
Damned. That's exactly how I feel when someone gives me a new journal and I look at that first, blank page. What am I supposed to do with that sparkling clean page? What do I have to say that's worthy of an unspoiled journal?
This, of course, is not the reaction gift-givers want me to have.
Case in point: Mary recently visited The Pioneer Woman Mercantile and bought me this amazing gift -- a cookbook repurposed into a journal. Two of my favorite hobbies all rolled up into one -- cooking and writing. I loved the journal and the thought behind it.
And yet ... aieeeeeeee! Blank pages.
Well, new-journal nerves be damned. This is now my visual journal. I'm going to doodle, do quick collages and maybe create To Do lists with stickers. (Yes. My children are 26 and 23. Yes. I still have a drawer full of stickers.) I'm going to play with the blankety-blank thing.
There are all kinds of blank pages in life -- and they can be intimidating. But fresh starts are filled with possibilities. And possibilities are filled with hope. It's your day. Fill in the blanks.