For weeks, perhaps months, “Blog” caboosed my infernal To-Do list.
It has not been crossed off for that time.

This is the writing, the pleasure, the task that valiantly bow out in deference to writing contests and plays and essays and journalism. Some areas of my life are in a state of transformation now, others are staid. There is still no set rhythm to my days. As summer Ivacation begins in a few weeks, there will be less rhythm.

I have been participating in an online writing program with women who maintain inspirational and updated blogs, among other publications. Their efforts made me realize how much I miss being here in my corner of the online world. Thank you, friends.

I have some writing deadlines that gnaw at me. I can’t find my writing groove now, which likely connects to my lack of overall rhythm in life. Duties and responsibilities and occasions converge now, of course, when I need time most. I wake early, only to be joined by my three-year-old as soon as my coffee kicks in and I sit ready to draft, joyfully delusional that I’ll get 30 minutes uninterrupted. Alas.

She is excited for our swim class today. She enjoys pouring water on my head. I may be spending too much effort wondering when/how I can color my roots after swim class today, which will require washing out chlorine and waiting for hair to dry. I will need to wash my hair again sometime before Saturday 5pm. There are recommended 24-48 hour waiting periods on both ends of this process I simply do not have, and I hate that this is what my brain wastes time on at 5 in the morning. This explains how I have not won Pulitzer nor Publishers Clearing House.

In writing the above, I have had to stop to help with a potty break, breakfast, milk, questions about the bag of limes I purchased yesterday, curious 6-year-old eyes scanning this screen, and search for shoes.


It is, at least, good practice. I am by nature impatient and grumbly, particularly in the early morning.

Today after swim class, before root camouflage, I will bake cookies for a school function. Tomorrow I drop them off. I drop off my daughter to my parents’ home for a long-overdue visit. I will write, I hope. I am already trying to court the creative muses. Saturday is a school-wide fair. I have the early set-up shift, the first official shift of the fair, and then the clean up shift. Saturday evening is one of celebrating a family member’s graduation.  Sunday is the last push to get the writing out by deadline. I worry already about finishing.

Pieces and parses and paragraphs. Oh my.


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