What do you blog about when you feel uninspired? You don't have anything new and exciting to blog about? When you're feeling void of ideas?
I'd love to know how you respond to those questions.
I don't know how much more ya'll can really take of pictures of Wink. But I just can't help myself. The cuteness bundled up in the new precious thing just makes me giggle and I have to take photos of her. Lots of photos. But you knew that already, didn't you?
So in my quest for better topics to blahg about, I found this little dittie
and then I clicked the button for "give me another" about 15 or 20 times until I found a question I liked. The creativity portal gave me this suggestion to blog about:
"What is your earliest memory? Why has it stayed with you?"
Okay creativity portal. I'm up for the challenge. Here goes.
I grew up in Southern California. The 1970's, suburbia, idealic summer dreamin' of Beach Boys, and an economy fueled by the aeronautics industry. And earthquakes.
My earliest memory is from my crib. Actually, it's from the point of view of the ceiling, or top corner of the room, looking down on my crib, and me in it, standing up and gripping the edge. And I think I'm giggling.
My crib had wheels on it, and my floor was tiled. That meant in an earthquake, it rolled around the room. And in my memory is my mom in her nightgown, chasing the freewheeling crib around the room, and me standing up, the wind through my hair as I ride that crib back and forth to the sways of the earthquake.
I don't know how true this memory is, and it's particularly odd to me because it's not through my own eyes. But a childhood of earthquakes was standard, watching to see if the light fixtures are swaying, confirming our early call of an earthquake, and then checking the crack in the dining room ceiling to see if it grew....I know what to do in an earthquake, do you? Yep, head towards the nearest doorway and stand in the doorframe. Stay away from windows. And if you're in a classroom, get under your desk. One time an earthquake hit in the middle of the night, and the books in the bookshelf above my sister's bed fell and hit her on the head. Ouch.
In college, the San Francisco earthquakes of the 1990s were devastating to many of my friends and fellow students. Most were from the Bay area, and we were glued to the television, amazed that the same reporters were staying on, shift throughout shift, giving reports in studios fueled by generators, growing more haggard and stressed as the days went on. The aftershocks of those quakes hit north along the coast, and inland I woke at 4:00am one day with the strongest jerking to my futon I had ever felt from an earthquake. And we were over 100 miles from that epicenter.
So back to my earliest memory....that's not a bad question. And looking at the path where that question led me to write about, hmmm. Not bad at all.
So there you go.