Now that I’ve been doing this blog for a month, I must say it’s rather strange.

Like writing in your diary, then deliberately leaving it out on your bed for your obnoxious little brothers to read. No offense to MY brothers. Bill, Pat and Jim would never have read my diary. Only because I didn’t have one.

Not only are you OK with your little brothers reading your diary, you hope they will. You wish they would tell their friends. And their friends. And their friends. Until a couple of thousand people are huddled under the pink ruffled canopy on your chenille-covered twin bed, avidly reading how you have a mad crush on Donnie Riker.   By the way, that’s just a made up name for the sake of illustration, and has nothing whatsoever to do with the kid by the same name whose locker was right next to mine in 7th grade. Really.

Apparently my diary is still safely hidden at the bottom of my underwear drawer, far from prying eyes. Sigh……