Knismogenesis: Being Tickled By Life

Dancing Peas. Young and Sweet. Only Small and Green

Well. Hello World.  This is it.  My very first blog entry. Ever.


And. Well. World.  You know what?  I have absolutely no idea what to say.





There was a time in the not so distant past (I have no memory for anything, let alone dates, and so I can't quote the beginning of the internet boom in anonymous revelatory writing) that published people were very few and far between, and I suppose that those few and far between people used to take what they wrote down very seriously, making sure that it was a worthy use of a precious resource. Don't get me wrong. I'd LOVE to be a writer, I've even got a Writing.Com account to prove it, but to be strictly honest I don't actually think I can call myself an actual writer.  I don't even write Christmas Cards these days, nominally because they're environmentally unsound, but actually because ... I just don't.





At this point, I should mention the anonymous person who donated me a free upgraded membership, because without them I wouldn't be writing this load of old twaddle.  I thank you whoever you are, and hope for the sake of your karma that you haven't stimulated that random twitch of a butterfly's wing that's going to bring on Armageddon sometime in the next three months.  I'm writing this because I have, of course, read the adage that in order to be called a writer you have to write SOMETHING.  This is something (which I could be moderately proud of) about nothing (which I'm not so proud of), because the only thing that came into my head when I started this was the joy of watching peas dance.





I get excited by cooking frozen peas.  There's no simpler way to put it.  Not sexually excited, because that would be odder than even I'm prepared to countenance, but happily, warmly, smily-ly, knismogenically excited:  peas disco when the heat's on.  I've just watched some while burning my husband's dinner.  Sweetcorn doesn't do it. It floats a bit and sinks under those jiggling peas and gets kind of left out.  I cook peas because they're ready in five minutes, if you eat enough of them (something like 3/4 of a bag?) they equate to one of your quota of five portions of vegetables, and you can swallow them whole without having to taste them.  And most importantly, they dance. Which makes me happy.  Which isn't such a simple thing for anybody as it sounds.





My brain sometimes feels like a black hole and there's nothing in it but dancing peas.


I've just admitted that to the world and I feel better.


Thank you, World.  Even if you don't read this! And if  on the offchance you did, I hope there's something making you smile right about now  :)