For the past few weeks my husband has been Lord of the Living Room, looking for work as are many Americans. He tells me he wants me to read an email he’s writing and thousands of keystrokes ensue. Granted, he’s used to writing code so writing prose is a bit of a challenge.
A half-hour passes and he shows me three sentences. I delete one for him and he sends it off.
He writes a novel and edits it down to nearly the nub of the issue. He is very precise with his content and aside from an occasional spelling error or TMI, he’s right on the mark.
I write. I write as I think and will have this post done in under ten minutes. Why? Because that’s how I work. And I’m not dealing with recruiters or a job.
I love seeing how other people go about writing letters, a blog, a condolence note or even a “welcome to the neighborhood” note. Yes, I still use paper and have several species of note cards available when sending something to a sick neighbor, or someone whose loved one broke up with them by email. How tacky.
For all this I must thank my parents and my aunt, the English teacher. Five hundred words were a hurdle back in high school. I’m at 216 words now and haven’t even broken a sweat. And you read me! Thank you! Dee
Cooking with Dee 