. I've never met a diary I didn't like. I can still picture my very first one--my dad bought it for me. It was fake crimson leather with gold piping, about the size of a postcard, and clamped shut with a lock and key that was completely ineffective when it came to warding off nosy siblings. Over the years I've kept journals for just about every corner of my life. In the throes of an obsession with my first crush I recorded the date of every interaction with him and what I was wearing. Before I digitized my calendar, I'd buy planner books that doubled as running journals and I'd draw a little "R" icon with a circle around it on every day I logged a few miles on the trail. And, perhaps in my most bizarre display of obsessive journaling, every night since February 22, 1998, which was a few months after I got married, I've recorded what I've cooked or eaten for dinner in a blank book.
Why a Dinner Diary?
Why a Dinner Diary?
Why a Dinner Diary?
. I've never met a diary I didn't like. I can still picture my very first one--my dad bought it for me. It was fake crimson leather with gold piping, about the size of a postcard, and clamped shut with a lock and key that was completely ineffective when it came to warding off nosy siblings. Over the years I've kept journals for just about every corner of my life. In the throes of an obsession with my first crush I recorded the date of every interaction with him and what I was wearing. Before I digitized my calendar, I'd buy planner books that doubled as running journals and I'd draw a little "R" icon with a circle around it on every day I logged a few miles on the trail. And, perhaps in my most bizarre display of obsessive journaling, every night since February 22, 1998, which was a few months after I got married, I've recorded what I've cooked or eaten for dinner in a blank book.