Why? To break through writer's block.
Ha, I made a man laugh. He wandered by, a new neighbor, and we chatted and I offered him some sweet pea flowers. And he promised to take my garbage out for me, due to my knee injury. Then he revealed he has a brain tumor, oh no, very dire, he was gloomy. I didn't know what to say, except, "Gee...I hope this doesn't impact you taking my garbage out."
He laughed and laughed! "Oh I'm going to tell the doctor that one! That's what's important." Pretty soon we were both laughing like mad weasels, hee hee hee, ho ho, har har har! Mad weasels with no particular plan for the day.
Face it, I have a gift for nurturing animals. Steve was awake 4 hours today! When Steve first moved in, he slept all but fifteen minutes. He was small and weak and fearful. Today Steve is a mighty cat, normal weight, awake and able to make his four desires known: Treats! String Toy! Brush Me. And Catnip, there is sometimes a need for Catnip.
Animals become more alive under my care. The finches at the front-yard feeder, the elderly cat, the little kid and big kid alike are welcome to grow here. Dinner is most worth cooking when hungry mouths are at the table. I always keep an extra bed, towel, and cup for visitors. There's something easy and rewarding about taking care of animal needs, creature comforts.
But with my knee banged up, I just didn't want to answer the phone. For someone like me, full of energy, the only way to slow down is to become depressed, want nothing, take no interest, gloom it up and sleep. I slept for days, I slept for hours, the prescriptions were for rest and hydration, so I drank water and wine and stayed in bed. My mood was black and blacker.
Today, finally out from the mungy grumbles, I see new beginnings! A possible hoop-making class from a big place, perrfect while my knee is healing. Cross your fingers! Tomorrow, dinner with a scientist and fan-friend, flown down from Portland (it seems like) just expressly to drive me up to Berkeley for yummy lovely. Oi, hurray, it looks like that nasty-feeling depression was only my body's way of keeping me low for recovery.
My knee itches.
I am itching, also, to write about some of the science stuff I've read, and just sieze the pen by the sword, and take up my gardening tools, as it were, to garden the soil of imagination, a soil where dirt germinates letters growing seedling words, reaching for meaning as sentences take form, bloom into essays, oh boy. That garden.
This writing exercise has been brought to you by the campaign to end Wendy's Writer's Block.
He laughed and laughed! "Oh I'm going to tell the doctor that one! That's what's important." Pretty soon we were both laughing like mad weasels, hee hee hee, ho ho, har har har! Mad weasels with no particular plan for the day.
Face it, I have a gift for nurturing animals. Steve was awake 4 hours today! When Steve first moved in, he slept all but fifteen minutes. He was small and weak and fearful. Today Steve is a mighty cat, normal weight, awake and able to make his four desires known: Treats! String Toy! Brush Me. And Catnip, there is sometimes a need for Catnip.
Animals become more alive under my care. The finches at the front-yard feeder, the elderly cat, the little kid and big kid alike are welcome to grow here. Dinner is most worth cooking when hungry mouths are at the table. I always keep an extra bed, towel, and cup for visitors. There's something easy and rewarding about taking care of animal needs, creature comforts.
But with my knee banged up, I just didn't want to answer the phone. For someone like me, full of energy, the only way to slow down is to become depressed, want nothing, take no interest, gloom it up and sleep. I slept for days, I slept for hours, the prescriptions were for rest and hydration, so I drank water and wine and stayed in bed. My mood was black and blacker.
Today, finally out from the mungy grumbles, I see new beginnings! A possible hoop-making class from a big place, perrfect while my knee is healing. Cross your fingers! Tomorrow, dinner with a scientist and fan-friend, flown down from Portland (it seems like) just expressly to drive me up to Berkeley for yummy lovely. Oi, hurray, it looks like that nasty-feeling depression was only my body's way of keeping me low for recovery.
My knee itches.
I am itching, also, to write about some of the science stuff I've read, and just sieze the pen by the sword, and take up my gardening tools, as it were, to garden the soil of imagination, a soil where dirt germinates letters growing seedling words, reaching for meaning as sentences take form, bloom into essays, oh boy. That garden.
This writing exercise has been brought to you by the campaign to end Wendy's Writer's Block.