Maybe it's just me, but the smell of a lead pencil being sharpened for the first time, and all the other times for that matter, makes my belly flip around. Being that Glenn (my husband for those who have just joined me) is an artist, I am happily exposed to many kinds of pencils and their sharpening on any given day.
Such a woodsy smell. Clean and woodsy.
You see, a lot of the time, I like to jot my thoughts down for this wee blog here, than go back to my nifty laptop a little later and type up them up, as you would imagine. So, after years of being a pen girl, I have just decided to switch from pens and their inky penmanship to pencils, and, well, their pencilship. (Yes I made up another word)
It has an organized feeling that overcomes me, a feeling that has me more willing to learn and write.
School and pencil cases come to mind.
Oh, and that flick-of-the-fingers maneuver to switch your pencil around to the other end so you can use the little coloured eraser. (We call them 'rubbers' in Australia)
Brush, brush with the outside of your hand. Blow those rubbed out words away.
Blow. Brush.
Start again.
Rewrite that.
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