photo credit: edudemic.com
As I approach the one year anniversary of the creation of my blog, A Fork in the Road, I’m noticing that blogging has been a big topic of conversation among my inner circle of friends. A few women, writers and non-writers, have all expressed an interest in starting blogs of their own. They’re not all sure they should, mind you. After all, it’s a bit of a commitment. One mentioned that she doesn’t think she can expose her innermost thoughts; she’d be too vulnerable. Another is wondering why she should give herself another thing to do every week – and on a deadline, to boot. Still another can’t see the benefit of devoting time to something if it’s not going to bring in any additional income.
So all of this made me wonder, why do I write my blog? Continue reading
Photo Credit – weirdtwist.com
Earlier this week, after a long day of work, I cut through the mall to reach my car and head home. I did what any pleasant but uninterested person would do when I attempted to pass you. I didn’t make eye contact. I didn’t even glance at your product because, after all, I didn’t want to lead you on or make you believe there was a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d be willing to listen to your sales pitch about your “miracle” lotions. But it had been a good week, I was in a great mood and I, typically, really like people. So when you planted yourself in front of me, 5 yards ahead of your kiosk and breaking my brisk stride to hand me a “free” sample of hand lotion, I smiled and said “thank you” without slowing down, fully expecting to continue on my way. Clearly, I underestimated you. Because that’s when you sidewinded back to your lair, beckoning me to join you, attempting to separate me from the rest of the herd so you could give me the “really” special product for the skin around my eyes. You thought I was simple-minded. You assumed I was easy. You thought you could coil around me and squeeze. You thought wrong. Continue reading