So here I am, debating whether to write about Bonds and Aaron, school starting again, or the high price (in safety) of eggs in China...and I notice that the intro from AD suggests writing blogs about...writing.

     Okay, I can do that, on a number of levels.  Rationalize: anything that happens in life becomes part of a writer--of his or her soul, a demon lurking in shadows, a golden moment in time.  I wrote a poem about Aaron when I was a kid, and my mom stood up to my dad for perhaps the only time in her life when he told her we couldn't root for Hank.  Story stuff, that.

  Or, I can mention getting an e-mail from a fellow writer, teacher, and friend, out of the blue, asking if I was still around.  Reminded me of Regina Pounds' apt poem about still standing--sometimes, we're teetering on the brink, and a word from a friend steadies us, lets us cling until we can find our balance again.

   That, too, would be about writing.  Writing, after all, is the magnifying glass that clarifies life for us, and hopefully for others.  In a crime scene, detectives always plead for that "insignificant" detail that might make all the pieces fit perfectly.  In writing, as in crime, there are no insignificant bits of life.  Sometimes we discard bits and pieces in the interest of story--but writing is life.

   Or vice versa.  Some of us never quite get that part.  A good thing, too--or we'd all write mysteries!