Writer's block. (yes, I think I've realized this is cyclical... not the first post and probably not the last one on this subject!) I don't know if I qualify for the "writer" part of it (that feels rather presumptuous), but the "block" part fits nicely. Yes, yes, I've been sick, the husband has been sick, the small ones have been sick (twice!)...but I don't like that feeling. The feeling of things rolling around inside me, unformed and fluid; nothing I can wrap a hand around. It makes me anxious because there are hints of ideas, small nuggets that could be something if I could just hold on to them for more than five fleeting seconds. But then, as I'm fumbling for paper, shoving a thermometer in a mouth, or trying to unload the dishwasher for the third time, it disintegrates into a lingering essence; haunting and wisping around me.
It's ironic that it took a WitFit prompt for me to even write that currently I'm stumped!
I get an email every day with a prompt to use for writing. I'm challenging myself to use
at least one prompt a week and write something, anything... I'll be
posting some of them here on the blog. I have no idea where they'll take
me. You've been warned. (The prompt word will be italicized in the
text.)
Monday, April 30, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Rainy Day Blues
My most favorite days, even with small children demanding attention! and snacks! and games! and kisses!, actually the kisses are okay, my most favorite days are the cool, cloudy, rainy ones. Not the flat gray ones but the kind where the clouds curl up on each other; thick quilts of fluff in various shades of pewter, silver, and slate. This day, this break from the grind and excuse to cozy up at home, is rare. It is no ordinary wet rain, it is a day when fairy tale diamonds drop from the sky, silver rivulets wind down the glass, castles build in my imagination and the world is transformed.
The rain comes down in a steady plunk against the windowpanes, a background percussion that insulates and provides a steady rhythm for life happening inside. Somehow, the green walls become a hideaway with secret happenings shielded from the outside world. Bread baked is homier, stories read are more engrossing, and songs sung are sweeter and tunier (I know that’s not a word).
I slip into my running clothes and run through the drops, now the pitter patter of rain on the plastic stroller shield accompanies my dash. The water rinses away the sweat so that I feel as clean on the outside as the inside when I get back, eager for a warm shower to seal in the freshness.
Soup bubbles, tea kettle whistles, the fire winks cheerfully (it’s gas so I pretend that it’s crackling). We have laughter and creativity and chocolate chip cookies. There is no fear of rainy day blues; this is a day I cherish. It's a day I wish I could store away in a shiny little bag, waiting to be pulled out and sprinkled like fairy dust over the harsh, unrelenting sun to give a little relief and refreshment.
I get an email every day with a prompt to use for writing. I'm challenging myself to use at least one prompt a week and write something, anything... I'll be posting some of them here on the blog. I have no idea where they'll take me. You've been warned. (The prompt word will be italicized in the text.)
The rain comes down in a steady plunk against the windowpanes, a background percussion that insulates and provides a steady rhythm for life happening inside. Somehow, the green walls become a hideaway with secret happenings shielded from the outside world. Bread baked is homier, stories read are more engrossing, and songs sung are sweeter and tunier (I know that’s not a word).
I slip into my running clothes and run through the drops, now the pitter patter of rain on the plastic stroller shield accompanies my dash. The water rinses away the sweat so that I feel as clean on the outside as the inside when I get back, eager for a warm shower to seal in the freshness.
Soup bubbles, tea kettle whistles, the fire winks cheerfully (it’s gas so I pretend that it’s crackling). We have laughter and creativity and chocolate chip cookies. There is no fear of rainy day blues; this is a day I cherish. It's a day I wish I could store away in a shiny little bag, waiting to be pulled out and sprinkled like fairy dust over the harsh, unrelenting sun to give a little relief and refreshment.
I get an email every day with a prompt to use for writing. I'm challenging myself to use at least one prompt a week and write something, anything... I'll be posting some of them here on the blog. I have no idea where they'll take me. You've been warned. (The prompt word will be italicized in the text.)
Monday, April 23, 2012
Survival of the Fittest
Survival of the fittest...If the past week is any indication, we might not make it.
Fun facts:
Fun facts:
- There are 3 empty boxes of Kleenex in the recycling bin.
- A twenty-month old can, indeed, sound like a 30-year smoker.
- There is an infinite amount of Kipper and Madeleine videos on Netflix streaming.
- Kipper gets old fast.
- Christopher Plummer, aka Captain Von Trap, narrates Madeleine.
- Christopher Plummer's voice is very soothing when you're feverish on the couch.
- Four-year olds, when done with their own fevers, are not terribly empathetic towards others with the same malady.
- I ate potato soup for two meals a day for 3 days straight. It had a 1/4 cup of garlic in it. I hear that garlic is helpful in fighting germs. It probably didn't make me any more desirable to be around, but I think I'd already lost that fight...
- 80 degree weather, while probably helpful in fighting germs, fills me with dread for the summer. But, I hear that rain is coming back on Wednesday!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Those Deep Dark Trenches
Today it was Sweetpea's turn... I won't be posting a picture of myself on the couch because, while I may be pathetic, I haven't mastered looking cute at the same time.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
In the Trenches
Day three of Round two with this virus... So far I've been the only one unscathed but it's niggling on the edges so I don't know if I'm going to make it.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Toy Story 3
Yesterday I watched Toy Story 3 for the very first time. Yes, I'm a little late to the game but that's because, up until now, I haven't had small children who suddenly come down with high fevers and curl up pathetically under quilts while holding warm rice bags. She, with her scarlet cheeks, who informed me that no, she wasn't sick because she wasn't coughing. (She saved that for a solid hour in the middle of the night...) Coughing is the bar by which we measure true or fake sickness around here!
Anyway, Toy Story 3. I'd heard the rumors. That kids came out of the theater laughing followed by their red, swollen eyed parents clutching kleenex and sniffling with abandon. Sure enough. The movie should come with a warning label.
Even though I was busy in the kitchen and catching just snippets of the movie,Woody still managed to tug on my heartstrings. Since I was holding Sweetpea and The Princess seemed a little vulnerable in the corner of the couch I managed to hold back the deluge of tears that was threatening, keeping it at a face-saving slow leak.
But, if I'd been by myself...there would have been full-on, whole body sobs, I'm sure. Oh the bitter-sweetness of growing children and the memories they leave behind.
Anyway, Toy Story 3. I'd heard the rumors. That kids came out of the theater laughing followed by their red, swollen eyed parents clutching kleenex and sniffling with abandon. Sure enough. The movie should come with a warning label.
Even though I was busy in the kitchen and catching just snippets of the movie,Woody still managed to tug on my heartstrings. Since I was holding Sweetpea and The Princess seemed a little vulnerable in the corner of the couch I managed to hold back the deluge of tears that was threatening, keeping it at a face-saving slow leak.
But, if I'd been by myself...there would have been full-on, whole body sobs, I'm sure. Oh the bitter-sweetness of growing children and the memories they leave behind.
(via imdb)
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