And today: I need to buy layer mash and goat grain and go to the post office to return the dress I mail-ordered and that I hate. I need to take a kid to his piano lesson. I need to weed the cabbage patch and thin out carrot seedlings and finish mulching the potatoes. I need to make bread. I need to sit at the kitchen table and eat cheese and crackers and read. I need to write two words. Two words at least . . . at the very least. If I don't manage to write those two words, I don't know what I'll do.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I'm feeling tongue-tied this morning, as if there's nothing new under the chilly sun. This is my last full day home alone: school ends tomorrow; summer begins; my days will pulse with bang and rattle and breathing. I don't want you to think I'm complaining. I'm not; I'm not. Only, I'm aware that I must change.
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3 comments:
Hi Dawn! I came across your blog because your name is right above mine on the Blogs by Poets & Writers on the NewPages.com website: http://www.newpages.com/blogs/writers-blogs.htm.
I have no idea how I wound up there, but hey...I'll take it! I'm sure I'll be back to your blog many times. I hope you can take a moment to look at mine, as well. I understand how you felt when you wrote this....overwhelmed with so many things to do....plus the NEED to write! I think all my writer friends and I feel the same. (uh..we WOMEN writers!) Have a great rest of the week, and please do contact me! My e-mail is listed on my blog!
One of my sons started his summer vacation yesterday. The little one *graduates* from pre-school next week. And like you, like everyone I suppose, there is so much to do. They start summer camp soon (Mon Wed Fri) and I have them T and R. I hope, at least, to exercise when they are at camp, and then, ideally, do something creative too. But I also know I'll be dealing with other deadlines, and trying to figure out what I'm going to do with myself in the future.
I love summer vacation, and I love my boys dearly, but switching from planned slots of solitude to constant company is unnerving. Like your boys, Greg, mine will have things to do away from home this summer: still, the shift is always a jolt.
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