Diary of a (Very) Young Girl

Lately, I've been playing hooky now and again here at the blog, but I have a very good reason.  I spent the past week or so contemplating the possibility of taking on a writing assignment that I never thought I'd be offered; and thinking about that--trying to discern if there's adequate time for such an undertaking in my oh-so-busy life as a stay-at-home, empty-nesting Grammy slash world-traveler (or these here United States-traveler, at least)--left very little room in my brain for anything else.  Since deciding that yes, I can make the time, I've been busy getting to work on said project.

I've always loved to write.  But have I always been a good writer?  Let's see, shall we?  I did share some of my childhood scribblings with you here before.  Remember spunky little Caroline Graves?  (Oy vey!)

But as you will see, my efforts before Caroline's story were even more pathetic less skilled.  And much less interesting.

When I was in third grade, I got my first diary for Christmas.  (I only ever had one other, in junior high, which I stopped keeping and destroyed after I realized that putting down your adolescent thoughts in a place where anyone could read them is not such a great plan: let's just say that I once wrote that my best friend was annoying me because she was flirting with my "boyfriend"--term used loosely--that day at school, and while on a sleepover, that very friend peeked into my "private" world and read all about it!)

This little red diary was stored in a cardboard box of girlhood mementos in the attic of our old house, then stored elsewhere when my parents sold it after I'd gotten married and moved away from home. I had forgotten half the stuff in it existed until the box was found and returned to me three decades later.  And thank goodness, this sweet little diary was one item that had survived intact; because let me tell you, there are deep and thought-provoking literary gems abounding on each and every page.

For instance, here's a scintillating look into the life of your average 8-year-old schoolgirl:

"Today is Wednesday...Tomorrow will be Thursday."  "...Tomorrow is Friday."  I hope back when I was keeping this diary, the lock was working and I kept the little golden key hidden in a super-secret place, because I was revealing a lot of my soul here!

Actually, I did let my diary in on the boy who was one of my very first loves.

If you're old enough to remember who this guy was (the cutest member of a squeaky-clean 60's pop sensation, a family called the Cowsills, that's who! And I had their album!)...well, then you're old enough.

I believe John is the one to his mom's right with the gigantic tie.

But seriously, please pray for me as I begin my new writing project.  God bless you!

Now before I sign off,  I'm going to leave you with this video of the Cowsills performing one of their hit songs from their album "The Rain, the Park, and Other Things."  (It was one of my favorites--and I think it'll make you smile!)