So yesterday afternoon while I was mowing the lawn sans iPod, I had brilliant blog-post ideas. They were flowing. Funny ideas, insightful ones, serious and ridiculous ones. Um, gone. This is why real writers keep notebooks or carry cards – like those white index cards. Husband does. Unlined 3x5s are his favorites, and he always
Becca, did you do your assignment you (nearly) promised yesterday that you would do? I just did my homework. I wrote about a time I “bonded” with someone. It was a good exercise. I remembered something I haven’t thought about in nearly 10 years. Did I write anything in my WIP? Nope. So sue me.*
So here are a few things that I don’t like, and I’m totally okay with that. I love to hate: 1. Television. Ick. If you love “reality TV” that is totally okay with me, but don’t expect me to watch it with you, or even be able to take part in a conversation about it.
You know that sound, somewhere between exasperation and disgust? That huffy, “uhnnnngh” sound that can be drawn out for several seconds? Yeah, that. I called someone this weekend to check if she was still okay to do something she’d agreed to do. Her husband answered the phone. He called her to the phone, and I
Husband and Kid 4 are heading out tonight for the annual Fathers and Sons’ camp-out. Honestly, we’re not much for camping in our family. This is why we have a mortgage, you know – so we can sleep in our beds with window screens between us and the bugs. But this Fathers and Sons’ thing
I accidentally tried out for a community theater play. But, Becca, you ask, how does one accidentally try out for a play? Well, I answer, one loses one’s mind. Clearly. Like this. I took Kid 1 and Friend to the community center so they could try out for the show. They sat/wandered/paced nervously for a