Good morning computer screen.
Blog. Smudgy mirror.
This last week has collected a half dozen bits of entries that sit in my draft box like hungry puppies. Big, glossy eyes. Licking noses. Panting.
And I have noticed that the precious times I do have to sit and write--naptime-- have lately seemed much more vulnerable to be filled with the most common of parasites--emails, phonecalls, breakfast or lunch for myself, grocery-lists, preparing for future outings, laundry, picking up baby-excerpts from all over the house, etc.
Free time for writing has lately felt like a hole my parents' fridge. When my dad removes a jug of juice from the refrigerator, he hollers this spot's for the juice! so the space does not immediately get filled with cheese or bread or the like. The space just seems to cave in, he says.
So, computer-blog-mirror, I just wanted you to know I have not forgotten you.
Quite the contrary.
I visit you daily, but have simply not been successful in completing an entire typed-word thought for one whole week. Until now.
And yes, a completed thought about incomplete thoughts does count.
(Ahh. It already feels so good to publish this post and set it free rather than tucking it back in a drawer to collect a velour layer of dust, anxiously awaiting further review.)
That's the beauty of the blog.
It lives in the present tense.
It doesn't seem to work any other way, with drafts and revisions and lots of editing.
So at least for today, I have protected one cavern in the fridge for writing.