I never like to be without paper.
The small blue book in the upper right of this picture is a little notebook I carry in my purse. I use it to jot down random things that present themselves to me. (And no, I do not try to capture something while I’m hanging on to the steering wheel). A casual sampling of some of my scratchings on the inside read like this:
Hawaii – Feb. 2006: Mudra: reassurance/dispelling fear
The full recipe for Walnut-Filled Muffins that I copied from a magazine in my doctor’s waiting room
“Tim Bits” (from a donut shop in Flint, Michigan owned by a Tim . . . Yeah, I know–at first I laughed at the inference, too!)
Are musicians freer than writers? Somehow it seems so. Why? Musicians can jam; but how could writers do that? It’s different . . .
Plaid shirt; engineer-look, tucked into pants, a little too neat—a little too tight. Nerd alert—and yet he drinks Fat Tire Beer. Never judge.
The small pale blue Holly Hobby book on top of the stack of journals in the picture belonged to my mother. It was her little Bible. She couldn’t leave home without it because she kept all of her important phone numbers and addresses in it, in addition to other morsels such as:
The full recipe for Broccoli Chowder (that she probably copied while waiting in some doctor’s waiting room)
The mailing address and hotline number for the Los Angeles Rape & Battering Center. (She was going to order free “HELP” windshield signs for my sister and me—just as a safety precaution.)
The word “masectomy”—spelled wrong. (I figure she was probably trying it out for the first time, as she was a breast cancer patient.)
Another recipe for a “green” cleaner: 1 Gal. container: 1 pt rubbing alcohol, 2 cups clear or cloudy ammonia (No lemon), 1 cup w. vinegar, fill with water. (I seem to remember her saying this was supposed to be THE ultimate window cleaner.)
The phone number to her oncologist’s office written in her substantially altered and shaky handwriting as the cancer progressed.
I use Composition notebooks for airport writing; fancier journals for coffee shop writing and girlfriend discussion groups. And still another notebook with Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow picture on the front, exclusively for the summer trips a friend and I take.
I don’t worry about what will happen to them after I enter my dirt nap, as I will have had what I need from them by then.
Do you have any such little writing gems in the making?