Is There A Point?

I have started writing here several times over the past three weeks, but by the time I'm ready to hit "publish" I've either lost interest or faith in what I've been writing. 

There's been a lot of evaluating going on. When I started "blogging" it was definitely a creative outlet; a place to tell my stories. 

It's different since my Little People have become Big People and the stories have to be mine alone. I honestly don't think that my life in the field is terribly exciting or interesting. This winter has been fairly mundane and even a little boring. Slightly depressing.

Couple that with my fear of turning into one of those old people who talk incessantly about their aches, pains and doctor's visits or grandchildren and you have a tongue-tied... stiff fingered?... blogger with a sort of writer's block.

Even now, having written this, I'm staring at the screen wondering what's next... how do I wrap it up... 

What's the point?

My life.

Do you want to hear about my hobbies? Knitting and watching movies in the evening is comfortable for me, but hardly newsworthy. I have a few boxes of clay holding down the pottery table in the garage, and there's a little kiln that needs to be sorted out, but until I get it going there's nothing to talk about there. Haven't read any good books lately, besides a few Margery Allingham type mysteries, so no intellectually stimulating conversations to be had.

I could probably go on ad nauseum about my achey almost fifty year old body and the joys (read challenges) of trying to help this aged carcass by eating gluten, dairy and soy free, but that would bore ME, so heaven knows what it would do to you all! 

Maybe when the green comes back and this long winter's snow is gone I'll be a little more excited about things and have some stories to tell.

Until then, I'll keep trying...

If you'll keep hanging in there with me.