(no subject)
My hand hovers over the keyboard, relucant to make the first keystroke on this blank page on the first day of the new year. I sit poised, pondering, as I might regard a brand new handmade journal with unmarked pages or a sheet of watercolour paper. Deep breath.
A touch of flu dogged me through the days following Christmas and so I didn't read or write or blog or walk as much as I had hoped. My vacation time disappeared, it seems, in the blink of an eye. I could feel overwhelmed right now, if I let myself, but I'm not going to. I have letters to write, piles to tidy, clutter to sort, books to return to the library but those are all good things.
source unknown
My life feels a little like this pile of frogs. But look at it. There is no dissonance in this picture. They are heaped in charming disarray. Listen to them chirping:
Move to the left. No, your other left.
Ouch!! my shoulder.
Hey, nice legs.
Who, me?
Can you get your finger out of my ear?
Is this my best side?
Yes, I feel a little like this pile of frogs, ready to leap into grand adventures in this new year. Dancing to the beat of my own drummer. Peeking around corners and over rocks. Surfing the waves, swinging on swings.
That's the life I want this year. And I have the power to make it happen. How exciting is that? One aspect of this, at least as far as my writing is concerned, is that I have banished my inner editor with instructions to emerge when invited, to speak only when spoken to.
from Ikea
This is a picture of Inner Editor's magnificent home. If she's not happy there, I've told her she's welcome to move to Baltimore.
It's almost midnight now. The witching hour. I am weary. But before I go, here's a link to my first Tuesday Walk of the year.
A touch of flu dogged me through the days following Christmas and so I didn't read or write or blog or walk as much as I had hoped. My vacation time disappeared, it seems, in the blink of an eye. I could feel overwhelmed right now, if I let myself, but I'm not going to. I have letters to write, piles to tidy, clutter to sort, books to return to the library but those are all good things.
source unknown
My life feels a little like this pile of frogs. But look at it. There is no dissonance in this picture. They are heaped in charming disarray. Listen to them chirping:
Move to the left. No, your other left.
Ouch!! my shoulder.
Hey, nice legs.
Who, me?
Can you get your finger out of my ear?
Is this my best side?
Yes, I feel a little like this pile of frogs, ready to leap into grand adventures in this new year. Dancing to the beat of my own drummer. Peeking around corners and over rocks. Surfing the waves, swinging on swings.
That's the life I want this year. And I have the power to make it happen. How exciting is that? One aspect of this, at least as far as my writing is concerned, is that I have banished my inner editor with instructions to emerge when invited, to speak only when spoken to.
from Ikea
This is a picture of Inner Editor's magnificent home. If she's not happy there, I've told her she's welcome to move to Baltimore.
It's almost midnight now. The witching hour. I am weary. But before I go, here's a link to my first Tuesday Walk of the year.