wanting to write. hoping to write. holding intention to write and actually WRITING...are very.very different things.
i am so sore from pulling weeds in the backyard.
should i be that sore??
i wonder how long journey will sleep before she wakes up to nurse.
i wonder how much longer journey will want to nurse.
there is something really funky going on with my throat.
i must want to say something to someone.
it is really funky.
i should post more pictures of myself on this blog. it is MY blog, after all.
but that would mean that i would have to actually take pictures of myself and that always feels kind of strange for me.
plus there is the whole situation with holding the camera with one hand, which is kind of heavy. or the whole setting the timer and then trying to make it look natural while laughing to myself over how really funny that is.
maybe there won't be more pictures of me on my blog.
i am SO excited about composting. so excited. probably strangely excited.
how on earth am i going to rake all of those rocks that need to be raked in order to plant our garden. really. how am i going to do that?
one rake at at time. oh yes.
my house is clean and it feels so good to be here.
and then i look into the garage and see that behemoth pile of laundry waiting to be washed and i don't feel so good.
but i think about setting up my clothesline and i am strangely excited about that.
and about clothespins.
i find it really difficult to write when someone is standing behind me.
so then i just write "practice" words like:
"little house on the prairie".
which i can write abnormally fast because for some weird reason, that is what i would always type when i wanted to pretend that i was the fastest typer ever.
wanting to be the fastest typer ever was somehow important to me at some small point in my life.
but now i can type
"little house on the prairie"
and THAT is kind of fun.
how are you?
who are you?
where are you?