Not only do I grind my molars when someone puts the ing on the end of journal and scrapbook, turning two nice nouns into verbs, but I seriously suck at journal writing or keeping a scrap book. God knows I’ve tried for years, since someone gave me a diary with the tiny lock and key for my tenth birthday. I remember staring at the blank pages and thinking “Um, what am I supposed to write about? My life is boring.” I still feel that way, but now I know exactly how many words a day I can push out. With writing and blogging I’m not going to sit down waste un mot on something like “Read the Sunday Times, bacon and eggs, two loads of laundry, half of “Hurt Locker” — which pretty much describes yesterday.
I love scrapbooks but I’m sniffy about “scrapping” and all the expensive junk that hangs in the aisles of Hobby Lobby or Michael’s. Geez, people, just glue in those ticket stubs, that take-out menu, some photos — the real stuff. Why pay 1.59 for a tiny pink bow with a bead on the knot? And all that pricey paper? (Uh, scratch the pricey paper bit, because I’m a paperholic. I too could save some bucks using newspaper for my origami — when pigs fly over a frozen hell.)
But I read of a whiz bang scrapbook idea in this month’s Real Simple, and I’m gonna do it for real. The charm for me is that you do this for only one week a year, no leather-bound journal or cutesie stick-on lettering necessary. A camera is.
You keep a mildly obsessive/compulsive photographic record of your chosen seven consecutive days — meals, shopping trips, the, the face on your alarm clock when you get up, the newspaper headlines, your feet on the bathroom scales — anything that captures that day. At the end of the week print out the photos, stick them into the plastic sleeves used for baseball cards, date the spine of a ring binder and Bob’s your uncle. Repeat sometime next year.
So far today:
This date will go down in history as the birthday of Ian McArthur, a Great Man — ask anyone who knows him — and my father. Happy Birthday, Daddy! XOXO. (He’s not here today — this is the infamous Men in Argyle pic from a couple of Christmases ago. Also sporting the diamonds are John, my nephew Miles, my brother Ian, and Lou.)
The kitchen clock showing the time I decided to do this thing.
Willow napping in a sunshiney spot.
Well, I did tell you I lead a dull life! I’d better go take more pictures — maybe I can find some paint drying somewhere.