I reallllly hate when this happens.
I don't get around to writing for a few days and I lose the rhythm.
I can't think of a topic worthy of more than a paragraph.
The thing to do is to just start typing and see what comes out. That's just a bit too scary for me.
What's likely to come out is more whining about my mother and/or my husband, neither of which I have any inclination to do tonight.
My third favourite subject is my impending fiftieth birthday.
Countdown is four weeks.
Tomorrow is the start of my bowling season. The first day is usually exhausting because a certain amount of organization is necessary; but twenty-seven ladies who haven't all been together in three months stubbornly resist having structure imposed upon them. My job as statistician/secretary is to impose said structure.
And as an afterthought, I get to throw the ball towards the pins every now and then...
This is mostly tongue in cheek - the point of course is to socialize and have fun. Until it comes time to add up the scores and see who wins what prizes at the end of the season. You can't imagine how vicious a woman of a certain age can get if she thinks she's being short changed!
In order to have a bitch-free year I have made the supreme sacrifice of volunteering to bowl with The Witch. The one that nobody wants as a teammate. This is the person who never smiles, who complains about how badly she's doing even when she's doing well, smokes constantly, and has all the tact of a Pamplona bull.
Let one person come to me and say her team is no good - she'll be welcome to mine.
But I guess that can be tomorrow's entry.
Well since I seem to have entered a (temporary!) dry spell, the least I can do is send you to greener pastures:
Stephanie now has EIGHT entries up in her new journal and is hitting her stride in world record time. I know she's my friend and I'm supposedly biased but really, if she sucked I would have linked her once and then kept quiet.
But don't take my word for it, go see!
Another journal that I've caught up with lately is
A Little Peace of Me by Jane, a young (well, compared to me) mother in Mississippi. Beautifully written; poignant; lovely to look at.
And last but never least: Alvin, perhaps figuring he needs more to do, has added an advice column to his journal Water Lilly Alley.
Readers (and non-readers, I suppose) are invited (really, strongly encouraged) to submit questions of any sort whatsoever, from basic plumbing problems to the meaning of life.
Answers may be found here and I must say that I have yet to disagree with anything Alvin has written. That leads me to suspect I don't fully understand it but that might just be me.