A Blog

So I'm blogging three or four times a month now. Instead of every day -- or every other, a few times a month I manage to pluck out a few decent words from my brain, shove them down to my fingers and on to the monitor. Not that I don't think about blogging more often, I just don't have much to say. My life has become boring to me. It's work, work, work, come home, eat, read a bit, watch a smidgen of TV, and drop into bed at 9. Day after day. Week after week. I wish it weren't true, but alas ... it is.

On the weekends it's grocery-store time, laundry catch-up, pull a few weeds out of the flower beds, make a decent meal or two, and then ... get ready for Monday morning.

Boring.

I long for retirement. When I can just write away the hours. It seems when my time is my own, I'm much more productive. Much more creative. Much more fun. I enjoy my house more, my family more, and by all means my writing. More.

Although my job isn't bad, in fact, I like being in the center of town. I got a great boss. And I do get lots of great lines for stories. But a real job can be stifling to the writer. The creative side of the brain slows down. At times, it appears to come to a dead stop. Sometimes I blog because I know if I don't ... it'll be the only thing I write in a few days. Reading keeps me going, but the need to write makes my fingers itch. Then why don't I?

Time. Just when you get a story into high gear, it's time to go back to work.

It's like getting the wind knocked out of your lungs.

Who knows how much longer I can stand it.

Blessings to you and yours.

Good vs. Bad

I spoke at Shakespeare & Co. this past Saturday and it felt good. This independent bookstore hosts many local and "famous" authors. I sat on a panel with Pam Duncan, author of Plant Life, Moon Women, and The Big Beautiful, as well as Lyn York, author of The Piano Teacher and other great books. Several women attended this intimate gathering and it just plain felt good.

Good to be in the company of writers and readers again. Good because I was once again in my element. Good in the sense that reading my work aloud stimulated my heart's desire to finish my next story. Good for the muse in me that cries aloud to be fed.

But along with good comes the bad. Bad that I'm so damn frustrated with time limitations. Bad because I see a pin-light at the end of a never-ending tunnel. Bad because I can't find two spare minutes to rub together.

Sometimes it's good to hurt. The "bads" in life are often forks in the road. Wake-up calls. Striving for the good is not a bad thing. Often it's simply ... life changing.

Blessings to you and yours.

Limping Along

I've been nursing a sick husband for two weeks. Knee surgery at any age can be a test of endurance and patience. Well into the month of May, I'm still optimistic that this month will bring tidings of great joy.

Just not in the way I thought.

I'm grateful for a successful surgery and a husband who tolerates pain. Life's perks don't always appear in the ways you think they should. Blessings don't arrive like watching a car pull slowly into your driveway. Sometimes you don't realize a blessing until months later. Even years. Often, the good times in life don't seem like it. In the midst of adversity, we cannot see the advantage. We don't feel like blessing God for His miracle hand.

Today, I'm grateful for the trials of life, as well as the blessings.

They've made me who I am.

Blessings to you and yours.

To Say Thank You

I arrived at work this morning and to my surprise, a pot of bright-white daises greeted me. My boss and his wife are, no doubt, the best folks I've ever worked for. Their thank-you to me was out of the blue, just because they're thankful for me being there for them. Unexpected, this gesture blessed me.

It made me wonder how many times in our life we say, "thank you." How many times do we say it and mean it? To give thanks is not just reserved for a November Holiday. To be grateful and thankful and show it, is often an art.

Some folks have no idea how to show their thanks. Where others go overboard. But I find as I grow older that a simple gesture, or a homemade card, or a note, or a kind word, or a pot of fresh flowers ... that's thanks enough and so appreciated.

Whether it comes from you or from those you love, remember to celebrate Thanksgiving ... even in the Spring.

Blessings to you and yours.