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Posts Tagged ‘Time’

While my daughter’s sweaty palms grip the plastic covered arms of a dental chair and she is inflicted with crazy kinds of torture, I sit, a few hundred yards away, in our local diner, somehow lucky enough to snag a deliciously cozy booth at the very back.

 

My intent was to hunt and gather, to try and squash three hours worth of errands into one, to rush. But, as we were leaving the house, my laptop somehow hitched a ride and I’m now imbibing on the creativity a morning away from home is able to squeeze out of my juicer.

 

It’s a writer’s dream. A secluded booth, back to the wall, a bird’s eye view of the little man who looks like someone I once knew, the adult daughter treating her elderly parents to breakfast, the middle-aged couple deep in some mysterious conversation that can only be cultivated by being together longer than they’ve been apart.

 

I relish the comforting heedlessness cloaked in hustle and bustle. No one’s worrying what I’m up to. No one cares how long I stay. No one wants me to stop. The server happily refills my cup as if as much to say; Yes, yes, write to your heart’s content my dear, for you are forbidden to do chores here. (I think she even had a glittering wand)

 

Now this is the point where we all imagine the sound a record player makes as its needle is abruptly lifted, scraping over several vinyl grooves on the way up.

 

I started this post yesterday morning, but just moments after deciding my waitress was in fact the good witch, my writing came to a halt. As it often does, life happened and for the next twelve hours, I was in the thick of it. Somersaulting from one thing to another, I never touched these keys again for the rest of the day.

 

But the good thing about being at this stage of my writing game is that I’m nobody. I have no obligations, no duties or requirements.

 

So basically, the pressure is off. I’m *too small to fail.

Photo courtesy of wallaadoo.com

Photo courtesy of wallaadoo.com

 

 

*Courtesy of the t-shirts the Saints servers wear at my local diner.

 

 

 

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I could be convinced. It’s the end of June, the kids are out of school and the smell of grilled meat wafts through the air giving way only to the scent of fresh blooms and newly snipped blades of grass.

So I suppose it’s true, summer has arrived and rain or shine, wet or dry, hot or… lukewarm and at times, down right chilly the season has brought with it a flurry of excursions, adventures and undertakings.

There will be picnics, barbeques, weddings and water, airplanes, tent trailers, road trips and renos. We’ll see tourists and tan lines (let’s be optimistic) and it just wouldn’t be authentic if we didn’t encounter a few salt-stung heart aches, skinned knees, sunburns and slivers.

I’m building up to something. Can you tell? It’s called foreshadowing and if you’re feelin’ it, I’m on the right track.

My knickers are in a bit of a twist. What’s listed above isn’t a compilation of my imagination. These are things that will actually occur in some form or another and they will be all consuming. You guessed it; how’s a girl to blog?

Reduce, reuse, recycle, that’s how. When necessary, I plan to plagiarize myself; take things I’ve already toiled over, and let’s face it, I’ll toil over them some more before posting cuz that’s just how I roll, and publish them.

My hopes are that this will be a win-win. My past endeavors will undergo a bit of spit ‘n’ shine and there will still be something for you to critique, err, enjoy.

All jokes aside, I beg you to stay with me. Did I actually use the word beg?  Why yes, yes I did. No question this blog has become a big deal in my life. I love writing it, but frankly, I could do that for just me, myself and I.

And I’ve come to realize that if you weren’t here, that’s exactly what I’d be doing.

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