Oh goodness, just write something.

But nothing seems worth writing about.

It doesn’t matter. Ordinary things can make great stories.

Like the time Dad split his pants bending over to look at a can of paint at Sears?

Like the time my sisters and I measured our noses to see whose was bigger?

Like the time I pulled in the driveway and asked my kids where the red car was and they     said, “Mom, you’re driving it!”

Like the time we found starfish on the beach?

Like the time Tim made me laugh so hard I wet my pants?

Yeah, write stuff like that.

Okay. Maybe tomorrow.