Yesterday I needed a break from the books, so I messed around with some wood stumps from a cherry tree that fell during an ice storm. I felt creative. Got the glue gun out, went outdoors and cut some grape vine, went up the road and picked up some chestnuts off the road and went to work. I put some little glass candle holders on top and voila, I have a center piece.
Seems like my mind is always thinking of new stories, but I seemed to be lazy about writing the ideas down. I may have to carry a little writing pad around my neck all the time. But then will I be ambitious enough to pick up the pad and jot down my ideas?
My granddaughter is a medical volunteer in El Salvador. When she gets home, I think I'll quiz her on some of the details of her experiences with the children there, and maybe write a story about that. Sounds interesting to me.
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