Blogging by the Speed of Light

 Exactly how fast can one blog? I'm not at all motivated these days. The blog is blah....


I've decided one must be a bit OCD to do anything well at all. I'm definitely OCD, but about "what" it varies. Some days are more like this. Don't you agree?

 Let's go camping. Stuff me in that stuff sack and  take me with you.

We are in the place where summer collides with fall and there are just not enough hours in a day. It's okay. The darkness comes early saying, "wrap it up." Let go for today. Eat more bananas.

Tonight, the last of summer is headed to the dinner table: Chicken enchiladas with fresh red peppers, tomato & feta salad with olive oil and tiny strips of kale (lest they find it and discover it's not lettuce), and apple cobbler. I suppose the apples are the ushering in of fall - we welcome you.

Students, barely still children, are diligently settling into school routines. They wake early without fuss. Gasp. They pull out dictionaries and do home work, having fun with it. Gasp. Books are read, algebra is conquered, and writing happens with nary a complaint. The saints must be praying and hearing my prayers.

Soccer has arrived with all its chaos, joy, and fun. I love the energy he burns and the team he plays with: good kids and good coaches. So much to be thankful for.  

She embraces hallways with ease. So much to be thankful for.

I'm writing. I'm having writing meetings with writing friends! I'm writing some more, and taking Zyflamend for my writing fingers. 

Thomas Nuttall did not get near enough of my attention this summer, but write I did. I worked on some pieces about Safe Families, entered the Payton James Freeman Essay, and then got back to Thomas. 

But I decided in bed last night that writers need to write down that moment of inspiration. You know the one. When the book "idea" happens, you need to know. Because 30,000 words later you are going to need to remember those inspired moments, or you will instead chuck your character in a closet and shut his own trapdoor upon him. That said, being sick of one character can motivate you to finally pull the other one out of the Australian desert. You know you left him stranded. Maybe he's still alive and even kicking.

It's all good. Did I mention I'm writing? My husband is glad I'm back to cooking :-)

And for kicks and giggles, here's what's on the book stacks:

For moi:

Birders, Tales of a Tribe
The Radical Christian Life, Chittister
Narrative of a Journey, John Kirk Townsend
H is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald
Stillmeadow Calender, Taber
Steering the Craft, Le Guin
Between You and Me, Confessions of a Comma Queen, Norris
2016 Writer's Market Guide
Let's Bring Back the Lost Language, Blume
Strunk and White - that one. 

pour les enfants:

The Boy in the Wooden Box
The Watson's Go to Birmingham
The Sign of the Beaver
Outline of History, H.G. Wells
Of Mice and Men, Steinbeck -  (After previewing this a bit more, it's coming off her reading list, until she/they are much older. Say high school! Always a good reminder to pre-read some of their texts. I didn't have to read this in high school, and didn't realize how very serious and scary this story line could be for 7th grade eyes. Glad to have caught it, and leaving this note here so you can too!)
Wonder Dog: the story of Silverton Bobbie
The Second Mrs. Giaconda
Sally Ride, A Real Life Story
10 Rivers that Shaped the World
Dad's Book: Awesome Science Experiments

"Days grow shorter now and migrant birds leave according to their own mysterious schedule. Squirrels fling themselves from tree to tree in a burst of activity... and I have always wanted my own personal deer, not to pen up, but just to know." 

~ Stillmeadow Calender by Gladys Taber