Beginning?
Until this is all set up, I'm just not going to feel comfortable writing. It's one thing to have the husband reading the entries, it's another thing to have him messing around inside. I can't articulate the difference, really; it's more of a feeling of ownership, probably, of having one's own room.
I'm not entirely sure what all to write, off the bat. I'm not big on linking, so I wouldn't expect much of that. I don't know that I'm entirely to be trusted. I edit everything: My conversations, days later; experiences in the retelling; thoughts. All are subject to revision. Each of us is so entitled. And so if I tell you my name, that may be reliable information. It most likely is. If I write of going out and painting green faces between the cracks of a paved walkway just because I thought my daughter might find them amusing, that may be a thought that I had but never acted upon--or it may be reliable. It probably isn't.
I'm not as exciting in real life as I am in person.
Squeak goes the refrigerator door.