I was tidying up my desk/office area before I opened up word to start typing and I had to flip the blotter paper on my desk. I always say “don’t start work in a messy work space”. I hate a messy blotter. I used to tell my kids all the time, in fact I would write across the top of the blotter “DO NOT WRITE ON THIS BLOTTER!” It never worked. I would forever start my paperwork and look for a note I had written earlier to remind myself about something and see signatures of my kids all over the blotter. Just their names signed a hundred times over. They are all grown up now so there are no signatures on the blotter.
Now I find my notes that I have jotted down for myself amongst my husband’s chicken scratch of part numbers and passwords to new accounts and websites that he wants to look at or has looked at and wants to remember them. Once in awhile as I’m looking up a word in the dictionary or my thesaurus I’ll find a piece of scrap paper with one of the kids names scribbled across it and it reminds me of them writing on my blotter. I hope one day they have kids and a blotter on their desk that their kids can mess up like they did to mine so often. J
You know, once upon a time, my husband used to have very nice “girly” penmanship. I used to be so jealous because his homework always looked so much prettier than mine; funny how things change as you go through life. If you don’t practice things you do well, eventually you won’t do as well at them as you used to. Writing the old fashion letter is one of my favorite things to do and it is such a lost art these days. I think my penmanship is nice... "girly" nice.
Writing on the wall is a thing of the past. Labor Day weekend hints that summer is a thing of the past and it is back to school and pencils and books and teacher’s dirty looks. Okay, maybe teachers don’t give dirty looks anymore (baa!) and there are no pencils and books because everyone has laptops and tablets and notebooks and probably things I’ve never even heard of. Writing on the wall has become another sad thing of the past for most, but not for me. I'll keep my pencil, thank you.
© Crackerberries 2011