Eleanor Roosevelt wrote a syndicated newspaper column called "My Day" for 27 years (1935-1962). She wrote six days a week, and according to what I just read about it, the only time it was interrupted was when Franklin died, and then she only missed four days. She wrote about all kinds of things that interested her, and she didn't shy away from giving her opinions on political and social issues.
I presume my mother must have read it a lot or that it somehow made some sort of impression on her because whenever somebody said something like "How was your day?" she would raise her eyebrows significantly and say with a great deal of dramatic weight, "My Day," stringing each word out very long and making it sound like those were the two most important words ever spoken. I have absolutely no idea why she did that.
Well, Eleanor was a better woman than I am, I can tell you, because I'm having trouble coming up with something to write about three or four days a week, much less six. I got to thinking about ER's daily writings when I stopped to think what I did today that might be worth writing about and came up with nothing.
Well, I did make peanut butter cookies. They are far and away the best peanut butter cookies in the entire civilized world, for which, alas, I take no credit because it's my mother's recipe which, according to her notation on the card in her metal recipe box, she got it from a bag of Gold Medal flour.
Perhaps I should have titled this posting "Ho-Hum" instead.
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